Broken
by Ms. Perception
Summary: When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?
1. Run Myself Out and No One Cares

**Summary:** When the gleeks are stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Puck starts acting strangely and isolating himself from the others. But is he really just tired or is there something else going on?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship, emphasis on Puck/Sam bromance.

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms. P's happy land! Um, also this is a story by me. So expect some mild to severe Finn bashing. But to be fair I also threw in some Kurt, Quinn and Mercedes bashing too. Sorry to anyone that offends but it had to be done.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less Finn and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note:** Finally. I'm finally posting this. I've been working on this for months, I kid you not. I've been agonizing over this one for quite some time and I've finally decided to post what I have so far. No point in slaving over it if y'all aren't interested, right? So here is the first of what should be five or so chapters of Broken. I hope you enjoy. And per the usual… I apologize in advance!

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><p><strong>Run Myself Out and No One Cares<strong>

_It was quiet, dangerously bordering on being too damn quiet for his liking. If it was one thing that he'd learned in the two years he'd known him, it was that Noah Puckerman wasn't quiet. He was always humming, or talking, or ranting about something. The point was that he was always making noise. But now it was quiet. Too quiet. Sam knocked on the door once more, trying to keep the anxiety that was feeling from showing. He pressed his eat against the door, straining and hoping to hear some sort of movement inside. But it remained eerily still. _

"_Dude, come on. It's just me." There was still no response. "Puck, open the damn door!" _

_He didn't want to admit to being worried earlier, but now that he was alone and not getting an answer, he was over that shit. He was actually very worried. Between the general weirdness that was Puck so far this weekend and the clusterfuck of a scene earlier, Sam was beyond concerned. He started to raise his hand to knock again when he noticed that the door was slightly agar. Cursing his own stupidity for failing to notice that before pounding on the door like a psycho, he pushed it open and stepped inside. _

_The feeling of wrong that drove him to follow after Puck only intensified as he stepped fully into the room. It was neat and orderly. Pretty much the total opposite of Puck. His best friend was a textbook example of pure organized chaos. Everywhere he went, Puck left some sort of sign he was there. Even the corner of the Evans' family motel room he claimed for the majority of the summer screamed that at some point Puck was there. But now… there was nothing. Brittany was right. There was something wrong here. And it was all about Puck. _

"_Puck? Dude, you in here?" _

_There was no response. The knots in his stomach continued to twist. He looked around the empty room and frowned. Puck's bag remained packed at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was clearly never slept in and was still neatly made. _

"_Puck? Where the hell are you?" _

_He was yelling now and he really didn't care. It wasn't as if anyone would notice. Santana and the others were most likely on the third floor as it was the closest to what they were claiming as their room. And if the others were still around, he could give two shits if he was disturbing them. They probably wouldn't care even if they did hear him. As he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes landed on the one place he hadn't thought to look yet. The bathroom door was closed shut. _

"_Dude, if you're just in here taking a shit or something, I swear I'm gonna…." _

_The words died on his lips as he stared in disbelief and horror at the sight that greeted hi when he opened the bathroom door. He finally found Puck and god how he wished he hadn't. Puck was slumped against the bathtub with the shower curtain wrapped around his throat. Tightly wrapped around his throat. And he wasn't moving. Puck was always moving but now… he wasn't. And there was a shower curtain wrapped around his goddamn throat. _

"_Puck?" Sam asked, in quiet disbelief. He didn't even blink as his legs gave out and he fell heavily against the cold tile floor. He felt bile rising in his throat as he stared at the lifeless form of his best friend. Several thoughts were competing for his attention but the only one he could grab hold of was: how the hell did we end up here? _

* * *

><p>Friday Night…<p>

"For the record, in case it was not beyond obvious by this latest piece of shit, Principal Figgins is a cheap, penny pinching bastard!"

"Santana!" Will admonished, though Sam was convinced he was simply saying it more for the sake of saying it than because he actually disagreed with her. Sam found it hard to believe that anyone could argue with Santana's completely accurate assessment.

Their temporary home for the night was the Fresh Meadows Inn. It was one of those cutesy, kitschy small town America places that catered to those that still believed in family owned businesses. Or at least that's what the brochure said. The truth was that the Fresh Meadows Inn looked like it had seen its better days about ten years ago. That was probably one of the reasons it was empty and cheap. None of the other schools would send their choirs there. None but McKinley. It would never change. Figgins would always be a cheap, corner cutting bastard. He should've known that there would be a catch when they were promised their own rooms. There was always a catch with this school.

"Mr. Schue, I speak not as Santana's best friend but simply as someone with an eye for quality and taste when I say that Santana has a point. This place leaves a lot to be desired," Rachel spoke up in Santana's defense. The Latina tilted her head in gratitude towards said best friend and turned her glare back on their choir director.

"Hey, guys. I know that this place is not the best looking but it's just for tonight. In the morning, we'll be back on the road back to Lima. This will just be one of those memories you can all look back on and smile about later in life."

Suddenly, Brittany shrieked and practically launched herself onto woefully unprepared Puck's back. Sam scrambled to grab his friend's guitar case before it hit the floor. He propped it up against the wall and laughed at Puck's confused expression. Brittany scrambled further up his body, locking her long legs around his waist. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck as she continued to peer over his shoulder at something on the floor.

"Nice impersonation of a monkey there, Britt," Blaine quipped. "Any particular reason you're choking the crap out of Puck?"

"I just saw a spider the size of Lord Tubbington."

No sooner had the words left her lips most of the girls (and Finn) were standing on various pieces of furniture or jumping onto various boyfriends. Or in Santana's case – ex-boyfriends. Sam grinned at the girl in his arms.

"Aw is Santana Lopez afraid of a little spider?" he asked, playfully. She glared at him but didn't relinquish the death grip she had on his shoulders.

"Little my ass. Have you see Britt's cat lately? I've seen the Great White Rhino eat less in one sitting than that cat weighs. And that's saying something since I'm pretty sure I've seen her devour your body weight in French fries for an appetizer."

Sam shook his head, his gaze drifting towards Puck to see if he caught the reference to his, as of last week, former girlfriend. To say that it had been a less than amicable split would've been the understatement of the century. Lauren publicly humiliated and emotionally devastated his best friend. And that was a daily feature of their actual relationship. But then they found out that Lauren actually cheated on him. And somehow Puck was ok with that. He said that he could forgive it and was willing to keep dating her. That's when Lauren dumped him… in the middle of the hallway before first period.

A week passed since it all exploded and Sam still couldn't wrap his mind around the whole situation. Actually he was still struggling to understand the relationship altogether. It wasn't as if he didn't appreciate curves (because hello, Mercedes) but he didn't understand why Lauren was such a bitch to Puck and why Puck allowed it. When he posed this question over the summer, Rachel blathered on about low sense of self worth and abandonment issues. Honestly Sam stopped listening about an hour into that speech. According to Brittany, it lasted for another two.

"You can let me down now," Santana's voice brought him back to the present. He looked at the girl still in his arms. "I'm pretty sure Britt just made that up so she could ninja attack Puck with a hug. Again."

Sam laughed letting Santana down. Brittany on the other hand did not seem to terribly eager to get down. On the contrary, she seemed perfectly comfortable now that he was actually supporting her weight. She was latched onto him like a psychotic koala bear and for once Puck had nothing to say about it. Ordinarily, he would be cracking jokes or making lewd comments. Now he was just quiet, an all too frequently used way to describe him lately. He spoke when spoken to and even then it wasn't the same. Sam did not like this one bit.

"Remind me to get my harpoon out for Monday," Santana grumbled, also staring at their two friends. "Bitch is going down."

"Santana, we talked about this," Rachel warned. "Violence is not going to solve Noah's problems. He's upset about the dissolution of his first long-term monogamous relationship. He'll be alright with time. As his friends, we should simply be there for him and not physically or verbally attack Lauren in his presence."

Santana arched an eyebrow. "So says the same midget that stormed into Sam's place and pretty much ordered him to punch her ex-boyfriend in the face."

Rachel flushed. "Those were entirely different circumstances. Finn was being a total asshole." Sam couldn't help but laugh. Six months of friendship with Santana and Rachel's proper vocabulary was pretty much a thing of the past. "He called me a whore and claimed I was cheating on him with Sam and Noah."

"There are worse things in this world to be accused of than sleeping with those two," Santana smirked. "Two hotties? What? That just sounds like a good time to me."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Lebanese, remember?"

"I'm starting to think there's too much of me to tie to just one gender."

Rachel's no doubt wonderful response to that one was cut off by Mr. Schue pointedly clearing his throat. The senior members of New Directions looked up from their various conversations to see the owner of the establishment coming out from the back office. She was an older woman, probably in her fifties or more. Her long, silver colored hair was held back from her face with a simple clip.

"I don't like her," Santana mumbled. "She looks evil."

Blaine scoffed. "Evil? She's like a grandmother, San."

"Fine, an evil grandmother. Grannies can be evil too. Fairy tales can't be wrong."

"Hello, Mrs. Meadows," Will stepped forward. "My name is William Schuester. I believe that Principal Figgins spoke with you about the kids staying here tonight."

"Yes, I spoke with him. He sounds like such a lovely man," she smiled in their direction. "Welcome, it's been awhile since we've had any young people around here. The other show choirs unusually stay at the fancier hotels in town. So it's an honor to have the champions staying here. My son Ethan will be out in a minute to show you to your rooms."

"We're still staying in our own rooms?" Quinn asked, hesitantly. Sam noticed that her eyes were still scanning the floors as if she were looking for the imaginary spider.

"If you would prefer to buddy up, that can be arranged. But I request that there be no co-ed rooms. Just girls or boys, thank you. I will not condone any frisky business. So please remain in single gender rooms."

Blaine's smirk was decidedly smug. Sam felt obligated to elbow him in the stomach. This woman looked like the worst thing she could possibly imagine in her hotel would be teenage fornication of the heterosexual variety. He did not want to horrify the poor woman by exposing her to Blaine, who was scarily similar to Santana in all the bad ways. Speaking of Santana, she caught Blaine's look and smiled as well.

"I think that they'll be good in their own separate rooms," Will assured the woman, eyeing Blaine and Santana. The duo merely shrugged and continued to smirk. "You two are on my floor."

"Like that's going to stop us," Santana whispered. "He's going to be too busy sexting Ms. P to notice anything going on around him."

"Thank you for that one. I now have images in my head that can never be taken back," Sam gagged. Santana's response was to jump on him again. "What the hell, Satan?"

"Turns out Brittany didn't make the spider up after all."

Sam's eyes widened as he looked down at the nightmare inducing spider beast crawling towards them. "Holy shit! That thing is huge!"

"On second thought, he's kind of cute," Brittany said. "Puck, can we keep him?"

"Hell no!"

* * *

><p>"Did you see the ass on that girl from Robertson Academy? It was huge!" Santana giggled. "It was like she had two asses! You know she had work done."<p>

"She definitely had breast implants," Rachel added. "And then those implants had breast implants."

"I should've transferred to Robertson," Blaine sighed. "The guys are way better looking. And I'm pretty sure the majority of that choir was totally gay."

"Yeah, but then you would have been in yet another loser choir," Santana reminded him. "Plus you wouldn't have the awesomeness that is us."

"With all the hotness there, I wouldn't need you. And again did you see the male lead? He couldn't be more flaming than if he spontaneously combusted… on second though, he's too much like Kurt. Moving on….."

"I'm going to name him Mr. Creepers," was Brittany's entirely random yet appropriate addition to the conversation that seemed to be going everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was part of what made conversing with them so damn headache inducing.

Sam blinked at the gossiping trio and Brittany who were currently lounging on the bed in his room. As he had no intention of gossiping like a girl (and whatever the hell Brittany was doing over there) he was relegated to the window seat… of his own room. Because he mentioned that they were doing this in his room, right? Still he didn't have the heart to kick any of them out. Somehow along the lines the four of them (and Puck) had become the most important people in his life aside from his parents and siblings. And that alone was the only reason he put up with the insanity and randomness they brought to his life. But he drew the line at mutant spiders that looked like something Lovecraft would write about.

"You know what I don't get?" Blaine asked, sitting up straight.

"Is it why you guys are invading my room and not someone else's?" Sam asked.

"Why Finn gets to hold onto the trophy," Blaine finished, pointedly ignoring Sam's response. "I mean it's not like Gigantor did anything to deserve keeping it."

"And that's exactly why we actually won," Santana said. "Notice how this shit is way more enjoyable since Schue actually listened to St. Doucheface and lets the rest of you guys sing. Finn really does sing and dance like a zombie that has to take a poop."

"Smartest thing Jesse's ever said," Brittany said, sagely. "And that's coming from me."

"You're smart, Britt," Rachel assured her. "Just in ways that the rest of us can't always understand."

Sam repressed the urge to snicker. Rachel was right about one thing. They definitely didn't always understand Brittany. But he loved the bubbly blonde and wouldn't trade the random things she said for anything in the world. Sam paused. His thoughts were getting way too sappy.

"Where's Puck? There is way too much estrogen in the room right now."

"Screw you, Evans," Blaine glared in his direction. Though his expression morphed into a more pensive and thoughtful expression a second later. "He's still in his room. I told him we were coming up here like an hour ago. He's still down there."

Brittany drew her knees up to her chest. "I don't think he's ok. He's really upset about this whole Lauren thing."

Rachel put a hand on Brittany's shoulder. "It's Noah, Britt. He'll get through this."

"And if he doesn't, we kill the bitch," Santana shrugged. Blaine nodded in agreement. Did Sam mention that he was seriously concerned with the amount of time they spent together? Maybe he should've been more concerned with Blaine after the breakup between him and Kurt. It clearly left a void in his life that was filled only by the insane, violent agent of destruction that was Santana.

"We're not killing anyone," Sam said, surprised that Rachel hadn't spoken up. He saw hesitation flicker across her face and frowned. "Ok, I'm going to go get Puck. You four stay here and try not to plot any murders while I'm gone."

"Take all the fun out of life, Trouty Mouth," Santana huffed.

"I'm sure you'll find some new and exciting way to make someone's life a living Hell before the night is over, San."

"You know us so well!"

Sam rolled his eyes and left in search of Puck. He really did know them all too well. That's why he knew that Puck shouldn't be alone right now. He wasn't handling this breakup well. And as Sam made his way down the stairs, he found he was actually contemplating Santana's murder theory. He was sure that between the six of them, they could find a way to cover it up. Sam learned that when those five set their minds on something, nothing short of an act of God was going to stop them.

He paused once he was standing in front of Puck's door. It felt different down here even though the hallways were designed exactly the same. His room was directly above Puck's but it felt different. The temperature was cooler here than it was upstairs. He glanced out the window and saw the snow was beginning to fall heavier. Shivering a little, and wishing he brought his sweater with him, Sam knocked on the door.

"Hey, Puck? You in there?"

There was no answer. Just as he was about to press his ear against the door, he heard a scuffling sound further down the hall. He cocked his head to the side as the noise repeated. He took a hesitant step forward. "Hello?" No response. "Ok, Sam, this is the part where you stop walking down the hall towards the weird noise because that's how you end up dead. Yet, here we are still walking towards the scary noise."

He kept walking towards the darkened corner of the hallway. The noise stopped abruptly and Sam felt the cold that was permeating the hallway intensify until suddenly a hand clamped down on his wrist. He would later deny the shrill cry that escaped his lips. But he was assured later that Kurt would've been jealous.

"What the hell?"

"Puck?"

"Sam?"

Sam put a hand over his racing heart and glared down at his best friend. "Dude, I've been calling you for the past five minutes!"

Puck shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't hear you." He pulled his legs up his chest. "Why were you looking for me?"

Sam sat down on the floor beside him. "I need a reason?"

"No, I guess not."

"You ok?"

"'m fine."

"Now why don't I believe that one?"

Puck snorted. "I don't know. Why don't you?"

"Ass."

"Bitch."

Sam grinned and leaned his head back against the wall. "What are you doing out here anyway? You do realize you have a perfectly good room that's like less than twenty feet away, right?"

"Oh, is that what that is?" Puck murmured. "Yeah, I know. I just… I don't know… couldn't be in there right now."

"Did you get Blaine's message?"

"Yeah. They invaded your room."

"So what you got lost coming up the stairs or something?"

"Nah. I couldn't be there either."

Sam frowned. "Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"The shutting us out thing. It's a pattern. You go through some serious shit. Shut out everyone that gives a damn about you and then you do something colossally stupid and end up in juvie."

"So Rach and Satan were talking about me again, huh?"

"Was it that obvious? Damn it."

"It's ok," Puck patted him on the leg. "I know it's from a place of caring."

"Now there's the asshole we all love," Sam grinned. "Seriously, don't shut us out. You've come too far in this last year to go back to irrationally angry and stupid Puck."

Puck laughed quietly. "I'm trying. I know you guys care and stuff. I just… I don't know. I feel weird."

"Weird like how?"

He watched as Puck closed his eyes thoughtfully. "Weird like… I don't know how to describe it. It just feels weird."

"That's it. There is too much feeling going around. I'm feeling all sappy about the others. You're feeling weird. Well, tomorrow night is guys' night. And there will be no feelings. Also contrary to popular belief, Santana does not count as a guy." Puck laughed again. That was progress as far as Sam was concerned. "So tomorrow night, you, me and Blaine. We could even get Artie and Mike involved too."

"That could be cool," Puck agreed, leaning his head forward on his knees. "Then again anything would be cooler than this place."

"So you're in agreement that it's a piece of shit?"

"It's a creepy piece of shit," Puck added. "I just get this feeling."

"More feelings, joy," Sam muttered. "You coming back with me?"

"I think I'm going to bed. Maybe some sleep will help me shake this crap off. Besides I'm sure that Schue will be by to collect Satan and Blaine anyway."

Sam chuckled. "I don't why he thinks that he can stop them. We've been doing these out of town choir shows for like three months now and they always end up wherever they want to be. Which is usually the opposite of where Mr. Schue wants them. When is he going to catch on?"

"I'm guessing by graduation," Puck laughed a little louder this time. He almost sounded normal. Sam patted himself on the back for a job well done.

"By the way, tomorrow you're sitting next to me on the bus. There is no way I'm sitting next to Rach again. She was going on about the greatness of Patti LuPone. Again. Then Finn kept glaring at me for daring to sit next to his ex, who's been our friend longer than they ever dated for. And it was all really weird and not cool."

"Still way better than sitting next to Britt," Puck countered. "I don't remember exactly what was said but I am now very worried and a little afraid of our bus driver. Also I'm thinking we should be more cautious around the cafeteria lady. Britt's got some theories about her." He shrugged. "So we stick together?"

"Definitely," Sam agreed, rising to his feet. He held a hand out to help Puck to his feet. "Night, bro."

"Night."

Sam walked Puck back to his room and started towards the stairs. He paused when he noticed that Puck was still standing in front of the door. For a second, he swore he saw fear flash across Puck's features but it was quickly covered with annoyance when he realized Sam was staring at him.

"You know that if you need…" Sam trailed off awkwardly.

"If I need to, I can always come to you," Puck finished with a grin. "Yeah, I know, mom. Good night!"

Sam rolled his eyes as Puck walked into his room at last and closed the door behind him. He gave the door one final worried look and headed back to his own room. He wasn't even fully up the stairs when he heard confirmation that he still had company. And judging by the time and the volume they most likely were not leaving. Great. Mr. Schue would finally catch on tonight of all nights.

"Why are you all _still_ here?" Sam groaned, entering the room. "Don't you have your own rooms? Or other individuals more worthy of your unique brand of torture?"

"Where's Puck?" Brittany asked, ignoring his complaints per the usual. He was starting to think that they had a built in Ignore Sam Filter. He really wished he could build one in for all of them.

"He's going to bed. I think he's still in a funk and he doesn't want to be a Debbie Downer. So just leave it for tonight."

"You're sure?" Brittany persisted. "I really don't like this place."

"It's cool. He's just going to bed. Tomorrow we'll be out of here and back in Lima. Everything will be fine. I promise, Britt."

This appeared to appease Brittany and she returned to the conversation he had apparently interrupted in which they were trying to convince her (with little success) that Lord Tubbington would not likely take well to Mr. Creepers. Sam rolled his eyes and got comfortable in his window seat. He let the conversations fade into the background as he tried to bury the uneasy feeling in his stomach that had everything to do with his best friend. He shook it off. Puck would be fine. They were leaving in the afternoon and he wouldn't have to break his promise to Brittany. Everything was going to be fine.

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><p>*Hi there. So you've made it to the end of the chapter. Hopefully you've enjoyed what you've read so far and are interested in reading more. And I promise that the opening scene will be explained very soon. Or will it? *cue evil music* Nah, I'm kidding it will be. Hope you enjoyed. Ciao for now.<p> 


	2. Find a New Place to Hang This Noose

**Summary:** When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship,

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms.P's happy land! So expect some mild to severe Finn bashing. But to be fair I also threw in some Kurt, Quinn and Mercedes bashing too. Sorry to anyone that offends but it had to be done.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the support for the first chapter. I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far. This chapter answers some questions and hopefully creates some new ones. Any way, enjoy the show. Also it's super long because updates are going to be a little slow. Because my mom is coming to visit and I've gotta straighten up the apartment. So enjoy this super long chapter.

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><p><strong>Find a New Place to Hang This Noose<strong>

Saturday Morning...

"Seriously. Are you shitting me? The food even sucks," Santana groaned, poking a lump that was supposed to be oatmeal with a frown. She looked up at Sam and he knew he was going to regret making eye contact with her. "Sammy, I'll love you forever if you give me some of your fruit."

"So many comments," Blaine muttered under his breath. Puck let out a huff of air that passed for a chuckle. Sam glared at them both.

"San, you pledge your eternal love for just about everything. Just eat the crappy oatmeal and I'll buy you a better breakfast when we're on the road."

"Now that he's not living in a motel room anymore, Sammy's balling," Puck stage whispered to Blaine. Sam rolled his eyes but he was still concerned. Puck seemed to be in a better mood but Sam knew better. He knew his best friend better than that. Puck had bags under his eyes meaning he didn't get any sleep the night before. His jokes were touch off and there was no real humor behind his laugh. No, Puck was very far from fine. But Sam was determined to fix that tonight. As soon as they got away from this crap hotel with creepy rooms, weird chilly spots and lumpy oatmeal.

"Uh, guys," Will called as he walked into the dining room. The various conversations slowly died out as all eyes flickered towards their choir director. Sam knew right away that he wasn't going to like what the man had to say. Will was looking at them all nervously. His eyes darting between them all, never staying on one in particular. "So there's a bit of an issue."

"What kind of issue?" Finn asked, hesitantly.

Will started to reply but instead pointed out the window. As their table was directly underneath one of the high vaulted windows, Sam, Santana and Brittany immediately leapt up to see what was troubling their teacher. The light snow that had amused them all the night before had turned into a blizzard while they slept. The ground was blanketed by snow as far as they could see. It was piled high and Sam could already see where this was going. Still, Will did not like to leave anything to the imagination.

"We're stuck here. The roads are closed."

"Stuck? Here?" Quinn repeated, shrilly. "But Mr. Schue this place is majorly weird!"

"I know it's not the best but this is the reality," Will sighed heavily. "Unfortunately the roads have been shut down. Communication is pretty sparse too. I'm working on trying to contact your parents and let them know that you guys are safe. We're going to be here until at least Monday. So just try and enjoy it. Think of it as a vacation." Will did not stick around long enough to hear the expletive filled responses to that statement. Instead, he slipped out of the room as quickly as he entered.

"Is he kidding?" Santana snapped. "He really thinks that this shit is kosher? I'm not staying in the Bates Motel another night. This place is creepy as hell."

"So what are you going to do?" Blaine countered. "Melt the snow with your laser eye beams you neglected to tell us about until now?" Santana narrowed her eyes before flinging a spoonful of her oatmeal at his head. Sam winced as the oatmeal slammed into Blaine's forehead with an audible thud. That just wasn't right. Oatmeal wasn't supposed to leave bruises. This place was more fucked up than he thought.

"I really don't want to stay here another night," Brittany moaned, leaning her head on Puck's shoulder. "This place feels wrong."

"Too many feelings," Sam muttered. He glanced at Puck who had yet to verbalize his feelings on this subject. Rachel was similarly silent but that was because she was trying, and failing, to get a signal on her iPhone. "Puck, you alright, man?"

"Yeah," he clearly lied. He rubbed his free hand over his face and sighed. All attempts at playing normal Puck were gone, leaving behind the exhausted shell of their friend. "Just didn't sleep that much last night."

"Why?" Santana asked, leaning forward in concern. Brittany sat up and was also focused on their friends' conversation.

"Kept hearing shit all night."

"Shit like what?" Sam pressed. But it was clear that was the only answer Puck felt like giving up. Sam was not having that. He was ready to continue pushing until he got an answer he liked when Quinn and Mercedes chose that moment to join them. He sighed. This was totally what he needed to make his day perfect: a visit from his least favorite ex-girlfriends. His favorite ex was sitting beside him alternately poking Rachel and her never ending quest to get a signal and silently grilling Puck for more information about his lack of sleep.

"Oh, look it's the less original and worse dressed _Mean Girls_," Blaine muttered. Sam cracked a grin and only just managed to keep himself from laughing. Brittany and Santana didn't bother to hide it. Quinn glared at Blaine, earning a brilliant smile in return. In the times when he struggled to remember why he hung out with them, Sam thought of these moments and knew. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"Does every conversation have to be so hostile?" Mercedes asked, in the vein of trying to keep the peace.

"Uh, you actually want an answer to that?" Blaine asked, pointedly. His eyes flickered towards Kurt and then back to Mercedes and Quinn. He raised an eyebrow. The two girls nodded silently. "I thought so. So again, what do you want?"

"Is it wrong that I'm strangely turned on right now?" Santana whispered to Rachel.

"No, I feel the same way."

Sam didn't bother to hide the snort at that one. Quinn huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Sam really didn't know why they expected much better from Blaine. Sam fully believed that they deserved Blaine's attitude and so much more for the role they played in his and Kurt's breakup. It started what was known as the Great Rift (no one felt like coming up with a better name honestly) amongst the senior members of New Directions and the primary reason behind Sam's decision to end things with Mercedes.

The rift started shortly after summer vacation when it became clear that the six of them were a unit. Mercedes was especially jealous and failed to believe Sam when he said there was nothing going on with him or any of the three other girls. That was probably his first sign he should've ended it. But he played dumb and ignored her increasingly more hostile comments towards Rachel. Santana fought back and wasn't nearly as much fun. And Brittany had a way of ignoring you that made cats look good by comparison. He ignored everything until the morning Puck dragged him into the boys' locker room to help retrieve Blaine who was holed up in a bathroom stall with no intention of ever coming out.

While Sam was playing dumb, Kurt was playing Blaine. It seemed that circumstances over the summer forced Kurt and Karofsky to work together. And Kurt fell for his former tormentor, ignoring the fact that he was still with Blaine. And there was where the problem started. Sam supposed life would've been so different if Kurt would've come clean with Blaine in the beginning. But instead he listened to Quinn and Mercedes, who were stupidly convinced that the only reason why Blaine transferred from Dalton to McKinley was to be with Kurt. And if Kurt broke his heart, he'd go back to Dalton. Sam missed the part where they became even shadier than Rachel when it came to the glee club, but at any rate he was not impressed. It took a few weeks for the whole thing to blow up in typical New Directions dramatics but blow up it did. And it was dramatic. When the whole truth was finally out, Sam dumped Mercedes and never looked back. And Blaine was still at McKinley. But things with New Directions would never be the same.

Sam snapped out of his thoughts as he realized the conversation was continuing around him. "You look like crap, Puck," Mercedes commented, realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with any of the others. "Did you get any rest this weekend?"

Puck looked up from the spot on the table both he and Brittany were inexplicably staring at to glare at the two girls. "Would've gotten some sleep if you two hadn't kept messing with me all night."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. Your room is right next to mine. I kept hearing a chick's voice all night long saying… stuff."

"And you think that was us?" Quinn asked, skeptically. "You sure that it wasn't part of your crew over here?"

"They were upstairs," Puck retorted, darkly. "Besides it's exactly the type of petty crap you two would pull."

"Sorry to break it to you, Puckerman," Mercedes retorted. "But Q and I weren't in our room last night. So it wasn't us. Guess you were just hearing things." She snickered a little at the end of her statement.

"Oh great, so it's finally happened," Kurt's voice added to the rapidly unraveling scene. Sam, along with his entire table, looked up to face the soprano.

"What's finally happened?" Blaine asked his ex warily.

"Puck's gone completely insane. It's been coming," Kurt continued, smiling sadly. "The first step is admitting that you're nuts."

Sam narrowed his eyes. He had long been of the belief that Kurt's relationship with Karofsky had him under the impression that he was invincible. After all, if anyone even so much as looked at Kurt wrong, Dave was there to kick ass and take names. But seriously, enough was enough. Sam made a mental note to punch Dave in the face when they got back to school on Monday. He added the members of New Directions that laughed at the stupid comment to that list as well. He was certain that Santana would have no problem decking either Mercedes or Quinn. He had to stop her from doing so on a semi daily basis anyway. It wouldn't take much effort to get her to swing on them.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Puck said, suddenly pushing his breakfast away. He barely ate anything off the plate that Sam knew was only full because Rachel nagged him into filling it up. Sam frowned at the misery radiating off his best friend. "I'm going to just… yeah." He rose to his feet and was out the room before anyone could even react. Sam doubted that the others even heard them over their laughter.

"Sammy, go after him," Santana whispered in his ear.

"Why me?" Sam asked, already pushing himself away from the table.

He didn't know why he even bothered asking the question. He knew the answer. It was because that's just how they were. When they had emotional outbursts, it was their thing to go after one another. During the summer when Sam got frustrated (actually he was more confused) with the sudden intrusion of friends into his previously pretty lonely life, it was Puck who went after him and kept him company silently reassuring him that people truly cared about him. There was no way that Sam was going to deny his friend the same treatment.

"Just make sure that you don't kill anyone," Sam reminded her. She blinked innocently. "Seriously, we got Sectionals coming up soon. And I definitely don't want to rely on the underclassman B-squad to get us through actual competitions."

Santana's smile was practically feral and did little to reassure him that he wasn't going to come back and find bits of Finn, Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn lying around the room. He was strangely not bothered by the concept. He patted her on the arm in acceptance, and agreement, with whatever plan the girl would concoct before following in Puck's wake. He wasn't even out the door before he heard Santana's voice. He wasn't sure what she was saying, as the majority of it was in Spanish, but he'd learned enough during the summer to know that she definitely just insulted them. And possibly their future spouses and children. And their children's children. Let the record show that Santana Lopez was incredibly creative when she wanted to be.

Sam didn't need to see Puck to know where he was headed. It was one of those best friend things. Just like he didn't need to know that Puck knew he would follow after him. Neither teen looked surprised when Sam sank down next to Puck on the floor of the darkened hallway. Sam stretched his legs out and leaned into Puck's shoulder.

"I think he might be right," Puck admitted, laughing humorlessly. "I think I might be losing my mind."

"Ok, no. Kurt is not right. I mean, dude, Kurt is the same guy that dumped Blaine for Karofsky. Our smooth talking former Warbler Blaine for formerly psychopathic because he was in the closet Dave! I mean no offense to Dave because now that he's totally in touch with his gayness, he's actually pretty cool. But seriously how could you pick Dave over Blaine? How could you possibly take anything Kurt says seriously?"

Puck smiled briefly and a quiet laugh escaped his lips. "I don't take anything he says seriously. He's wearing a kilt in the middle of a blizzard. Even Rachel is wearing pants and she claims she's allergic to them. So I'm pretty sure life doesn't take Kurt seriously."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that even without the bitchy princess' comments, I still feel like I'm going crazy. Ever since we got here… I can't… it's just that…."

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Puck shifted his gaze slowly towards Sam. "I know that we say that in theory but…."

"No theory," Sam assured him. "There's not a whole lot you could tell me that will make me stop being your friend. We're family now, remember?"

"You're going to think I'm nuts."

"You've met our friends, right? Brittany spent the majority of last night talking about how she wanted to catch a mutated spider and make it her friend so that he can help her fat ass cat feel better about his feline obesity. And I'm pretty sure that conversation ended with Blaine and Rachel agreeing to help her catch Mr. Creepers."

Puck snickered softly. "Britt is crazy in the loveable kind of way. I think I might be going crazy in the stay far, far away kind of way."

"How?"

"I've been hearing things," Puck finally admitted, looking down at his hands. "It started when we first got here. I was in the lobby and I kept hearing a voice telling me that I was worthless. And then I kept seeing things moving around in my room. The reason I was in the hallway last night was because I thought I saw…."

"Saw what?" Sam nudged him again.

"I thought I saw a chick in the mirror," he mumbled. "It freaked me out and I went outside. Then I went back in after we talked. I didn't see anything else but I kept hearing a voice saying the same things. That I'm worthless. That my friends don't care about me."

Sam leaned back against the wall, silently contemplating what Puck was saying. It did sound heavy. If he just took it at surface value then it would sound like his friend was losing grip with reality. But he believed in Puck too much. Even when Puck didn't believe in himself.

"Hey," Sam poked Puck's shoulder until finally he lifted his gaze to meet Sam's again. "I don't think you're crazy. I think you're really stressed out and sleep deprived. And it's not just the breakup with Lauren that's got you like this. You also got everything with school, with taking on more solos in glee, college, worrying about your mom, and just everything. You've been running in a million different directions since the summer and you haven't slowed down. You're stressed, bro. And exhausted."

"You really believe that?"

"I don't believe you're going nuts. But if you are," Sam shrugged. "We'll deal with it. Besides it might be fun having an insane best friend. At least it'll make sharing a room with you interesting next year."

Puck smiled a little more genuinely. "Anyone ever tell you that you're not right in the head?"

"Yeah, my little brother kindly informed me after I told him that I wasn't dating any of the girls we hang with. He told me that I was 'a total and complete fucking idiot'."

"Oh, so that's why he was hanging from that tree branch when I got there that afternoon."

"No, that was the day he told me that I was totally girly enough for Santana."

"I ever tell you that Stevie is kinda awesome?"

"Jerk." Sam grinned. "So, you're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling… ok. I still feel like I'm out of it. But I feel less like I'm going crazy at the moment."

"It's because I'm awesome isn't it?"

"Yes, Sam," Puck rolled his eyes. "It's because you're awesome."

"Well then you just need to stick with me this weekend. We'll ride this thing out and then when we get back to Lima we can make a plan for helping you deal with everything."

"Ok, but if Rach makes another goddamn pie chart, I'm breaking it over your head."

"Duly noted. Remind me to hide Rachel's poster board and markers."

"Santana already did. After Rachel made her that chart on the ways she can be less violent, Santana threw them in the dumpster behind the school. That was also after she threw Jacob in there for perving on Rachel again. The fact that she finds dumping Jacob in the garbage an acceptable answer to his pervy behaviors was the whole reason Rachel made the pie chart in the first place."

Sam laughed and stood up. "Let's go grab Blaine, Artie and Mike. We can totally have our guys' night here."

"But it's not night. It's actually the afternoon now."

"Shut up, ass. You know what I mean! We can have guys' afternoon then. Oh, dude, I know! Let's go for a walk."

Puck scoffed. "Goddamn Southerners. Always so amazed by the snow." Sam pouted playfully, earning a whack to the knee from his still seated friend. "Put that away before you suck up the world. I didn't say I wasn't going. I just think you're a big pansy that's all."

"I can live with that," Sam shrugged before holding his hand out to help Puck up. Once he was standing, Sam placed his hand on Puck's shoulder. "And next time, dude, just tell me what's going on. Remember there's nothing we can't pull off between the six of us. You guys decided I wasn't going to be homeless anymore and look."

"We did do that, didn't we?" Puck smiled smugly. "We're kind of kickass."

"Yeah, we are," Sam confirmed.

"No, Sam, **we're** kickass. You did nothing to contribute to that other than not be homeless."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that enough?"

Puck shrugged with one shoulder. "I guess you're kick ass in a sort of passive way."

"Why do I put you with you again?"

Just as suddenly as the playful atmosphere appeared, it was gone bringing back the slump in his shoulders and a seemingly increasingly permanent frown. "I honestly don't know."

Sam frowned before slinging an arm around Puck's shoulders. "Good thing it was a rhetorical question then, huh? And the answer, genius, is that we're quite possibly the only two people in the world that can even semi contain the unholy cocktail of crazy that is Blaine, Rach and Satan."

"You forgot Britt. She has her moments too."

Sam snorted. "Yeah she does. Whose idea was it to let them be friends?"

"We didn't **let** them be friends. It was just a scary side effect of the whole 'Stop Sam from Being Homeless and Miserable' plan. So really this is your fault."

"I thought I did nothing to contribute to the plan."

"I've been known to be wrong before."

Sam laughed. No, it wasn't perfect. He could still feel the tension in Puck's shoulders as they walked back to the dining area. But his friend was making the effort at trying to get back to normal, which was more than he was offering before. Sam wasn't really worried because he knew that a few hours with the boys would work wonders at improving his mood. He shrugged off the nagging feeling of concern that had been twisting his stomach since the night before and walked into the dining area to find World War III.

If taken in without sound, the scene would've been almost comical. Blaine and Mike were trying to pin a struggling and visibly pissed Brittany down. She was seated on Artie's lap and he was also trying to hold her in place. Rachel was holding Santana's arm in an incredibly not safe loose grip as the Latina growled at the others in the room. Sam glanced over at the other side of the room to find Mercedes trying, and failing, to talk Kurt down while Quinn was hiding behind Finn. Sam wanted to laugh. He probably would've laughed if it hadn't been for the words that left Kurt's mouth next.

"I know you're all two steps away from moving together into some kind of hippie love commune but even you can see that there is reason for concern here!"

Brittany looked up at Rachel. "Make them let me go!"

"Not until you promise to stop attacking the ignorant." Brittany sat back in defeat. Rachel nodded. "Thought so. Look, there is no point in this conversation continuing any further. We're clearly not going to reach an understanding. So let's just agree to disagree and move on."

"If Puck is going crazy, don't you think that's something that we should tell Mr. Schue?" Finn asked, obviously confused.

"And what exactly are you going to say, Gigantor? That you think Puck's losing his mind because he's not sleeping?" Artie snapped around Brittany's shoulder. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"You're going to run to him with some half assed theory because the guy made a few comments when he's clearly sleep deprived and depressed," Mike added, with a scowl. "It's like you just want to believe that he's crazy."

"Seriously, if you just stop to think about it, this was all inevitable. It was most likely always going to end tragically for Puck," Kurt countered. "It was always going to be either crazy, shot by a jealous husband or a drug overdose."

"You forgot one," Puck pointed out. Everyone in the room was visibly startled, including Sam who was so caught up in the madness that he stupidly forgot the person at the center of the chaos. Puck was eerily calm. That was not good. He was also staring at Kurt expectantly.

Kurt clasped his hands together in front of him and straightened somewhat. Sam noticed that he didn't make eye contact as he finally realized Puck was waiting for a response. "What… what did we leave out?"

"Suicide," Puck replied, like he was talking about the weather. He was seemingly oblivious to the way everyone paled while he spoke. "Although I guess that could fall under crazy. But I don't think suicide is crazy. I think it just means you've had enough. Not crazy. Just tired of trying. I know that feeling well."

Quinn took a hesitant step away from Finn towards Puck. Her gaze flickering nervously between Puck and Brittany. But Brittany, like everyone else, only had eyes for the too calm Puck.

"Puck, you know we were just joking around, right?" she asked, trying to force a smile.

He shrugged. "You'll tell yourself that to help you sleep tonight but we all know you meant it. I have to say I'm surprised though, Kurt. I guess you forgot how much words really fucking hurt. Or maybe you just felt like I deserve it. Maybe I do for everything I used to do. Huh, something to think about, I suppose." He started to walk away but Sam caught him before he was fully out the room.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," Puck muttered. He started to pull his arm out of Sam's grip. "Alone. I just need to clear my head. I'll be fine. I promise."

Sam stared at Puck in silent contemplation. Every instinct in him said to keep Puck with him and not let him go. But he didn't want to be accused of smothering him either. Plus it was probably a good idea to get Puck away from the people determined to crush what little was left of his spirit. So finally Sam let go.

"You better be or I'm so letting Brittany sic Mr. Creepers on your ass." Puck rolled his eyes at the weak attempt at mothering before nodding. He sent out another promise and walked quickly out the room before Santana, Brittany or Rachel could protest him leaving. Sam noticed the slump of his shoulders as he left and was suddenly tempted to punch people in the face again. He whirled around to face the quartet that seemed to be ashamed. Or rather Finn was trying to step away from the horribly guilty looking Quinn and Kurt. Sam rolled his eyes. It so wasn't worth going there. He could go off on them but what would be the point. They knew what they did and all the yelling in the world wouldn't change that fact. So instead he turned to his friends.

"Did you talk to him?" Santana asked, picking up on the hint to back down from confrontation mode.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "It's not good. It was hopeful for a bit but now I'm not too sure."

"Tina went with Mr. Schue to see if there are any working televisions that weren't manufactured sometime before Mr. Schue was born," Mike reported. "I got the DVD player in my bag and Artie bought some DVDs."

"A little excessively gratuitous violence and he should be back to normal," Artie assured with a smile. Sam grinned back hesitantly. He didn't think it was going to be that easy. Sam had an uneasy feeling in his stomach and he didn't know why. There was nothing overt to be concerned about. The others were being jerks, per the usual. Puck just went to clear his head. He'd be back later and everything would be fine. So why was his stomach twist in more knots than a pretzel at the moment?

"You guys know we didn't mean for him to hear that, right?" Quinn spoke up, dragging all attention back the quartet standing awkwardly on the sidelines. "Like, it was seriously just a joke. W really didn't think he would come back and hear it all."

"And that makes it better?" Brittany asked.

"I never wanted to hurt him like that," Kurt said, looking down at his shoes.

"Well you did," Rachel replied, coldly. "Congratulations, you're officially the bully now. I guess it feels great putting him in his place."

"Rachel," Santana held onto her hand. "It's not worth it. They're not worth it. Just remember, this is the last year we have to deal with this bullshit. Next year, we'll be in New York and this town and this drama will be just an unpleasant memory that we can all joke about when we're stumbling through the streets of Times Square drunk off our asses and running from hobos." Sam couldn't help but laugh at the irony of Santana talking Rachel down. Now he knew that this place was screwed up. Everything was completely backwards.

Tina and Will chose that moment to return to the room. It always amazed Sam how their teacher alternated between complete obliviousness and hyper vigilance. He took one look around the room and frowned. The usual air of obliviousness was gone and the older man was definitely concerned by the almost visible tension in the room.

"What happened?"

Sam exchanged looks with his friends. They reached a silent consensus that it wasn't in Puck's best interest for them to tell on the others, despite how good it would make them all feel.

"Nothing worth repeating, Mr. Schuester," Rachel replied with a bright smile. "Did you manage to locate a working television set?"

"Yeah," Will's eyes were flickering between them all. He clearly didn't believe that nothing happened. Sam could see him taking a mental inventory of their faces before he finally reached a conclusion "Where's Puck?"

"He went to take a nap in his room," Sam lied smoothly. "He was talking about feeling exhausted all morning. He hasn't been sleeping lately."

Will nodded. Sam felt the tension drain out as their teacher clearly believed that one. "I noticed. I was going to talk to him about that later. I was worried about him. Ok, well, let him sleep. You guys are free to do what you want for the rest of the day. There are televisions on the first and second floor. Ms. Meadows told me to inform you that dinner is at seven. So we'll meet up for that. I managed to call Ms. Pillsbury and she's getting through to your parents, so they won't worry. Try to make the best of this, guys." With that said, Will left the room again.

"Oh joy," Santana muttered. "I can't wait to see what culinary delight she comes up with next. Here's hoping there's Jell-O. Maybe we can use it to build a snow plow and tunnel our way out of this shit hole."

"I thought you were going to use your laser eye beams," Blaine snickered. She glared at him before flicking him on the bruise left behind by the oatmeal. Sam shook his head. He was totally asking for that one.

"Sam?" Brittany asked, grabbing onto Sam's sleeve. "Can you go find Puck now?"

"He said he's fine, Britt," he assured her.

Brittany blinked at him and he swore she was two steps away from breaking the sparkly eyes of doom out. "I know he said he was fine but I have a bad feeling. Can you go find him, please?"

Sam sighed. On one hand, he knew that Puck just needed some time alone. Everyone needed it every now and then, especially when you were friends with this crew. But on the other hand, this was Brittany they were talking about.

"You might as well just go," Rachel pointed out. "She's not going to leave you alone. I'm sure Noah will understand."

"Wait," Tina held up a hand. "I thought you said Puck was in his room. Why would Sam need to do his Finding Puck thing if he was there?"

"That was the Made for Schue edit," Artie replied, throwing a glare at Kurt. "The short answer is that some people in this room are assholes."

Tina huffed. "I always miss everything."

Mike patted her arm sympathetically. "Don't worry, T. I'm sure before this weekend is over, they'll end up saying something even worse than that."

"Better not," Santana replied darkly. Her hand strayed towards her hair which was swept up in a ponytail. Sam arched an eyebrow wondering if the girl really did keep razorblades in there. He also wondered if he should be concerned about that. But as he turned to leave the room, he figured that if she hadn't used them by now, it might be safe.

And if not… well, it's not like they didn't have it coming to them. With a deep sigh, Sam realized that his moral compass was beginning to inch ever so slightly towards the south. He really was spending way too much time with these guys. And he wasn't inclined to change that any time soon. He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pocket. Time to go do his 'Finding Puck' thing. Hopefully he hadn't gone too far and they'd make it back before Santana resorted to the razor blades. That should cheer Puck up. It was doing wonders for his mood already.

* * *

><p>Sam cursed under his breath as he passed by the same tacky floral wallpaper he'd passed at least five times already. He was lost. He was actually lost in a place that only had three floors and was half the size of their school. He was grateful that the blizzard had knocked out their cell phone signals. He would never live this one down if he had to call for help. Although after spending nearly two hours wandering around, he was strongly leaning towards sucking up his pride and screaming for help. He didn't care who found him at this point. Hell, he'd even take Finn.<p>

He turned another corner, hoping that it would at least take him to the stairs when he bumped into someone. A living, breathing human being. He was tempted to throw his arms around the first sign of human life he'd come across in an hour but it wasn't one of the gleeks or Mr. Schue and that would probably just be weird.

"Sorry!" Sam apologized. The older man in front of him laughed and waved off his apology. Sam found himself smiling in return. Ethan Meadows was the polar opposite of his mother in terms of looks. While his mother was fair-skinned with silvery blonde hair, Ethan had a tanner complexion with dark eyes. He reminded Sam a little of Puck. Santana claimed she felt positive vibes from the younger of the Meadows. Rachel hinted that Santana wanted to feel vibes of another sort. The conversation had predictably gone downhill from there.

"It's quite alright," Ethan assured him. "You're a long way from the television rooms."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I actually was looking for my friend. He said he was going for a walk but I can't seem to figure out where."

"Oh, the one with the Mohawk?"

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"Sure. I found trying to get out to the courtyard a few hours ago but the doors are frosted shut right now. We tried to push through but we couldn't get out. So he said he was giving up and going to his room."

Sam blinked. Really? He just spent two hours wandering around that hellhole of an inn to find someone who was in his room. His room that Sam knew how to get back to? If he wasn't so relieved, he'd be pissed. No, on second thought he was pissed and he was relieved.

"Uh, Mr. Meadows?"

"Call me Ethan."

"Right, Ethan. When you saw my friend… how did he seem to you?"

Ethan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Honestly, he seemed a little sad. I asked if he wanted to talk about it, but he said he'd be fine. Said his 'wife' would be by soon enough."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I hate him."

"Ah," Ethan grinned. "So you're the wife?"

"It's a joke," Sam blurted out. "We're not really together. He's just… Puck."

Ethan laughed. "It must be nice… having friends like that."

"It has its moments," Sam replied with a smirk. "Sometimes I want to strangle them but then other moments I'm just happy they're there. They really came through for me when I needed them the most. And I don't think I'll ever be able to repay them for that."

"I admit. I'm totally jealous."

"I guess it must be lonely out here, huh?"

"You have no idea," Ethan let out a sigh. "It's just that I grew up here. I got home schooling and I didn't even go away for college. Meeting people is difficult to say the least. And even when you think found someone that might want to stick it out. They end up leaving you too. But I can't leave my mom. She loves this place even though it's not exactly a five star joint. We can't really afford the upkeep because we can't bring in the customers. But she won't sell. And I won't leave her so….." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. You didn't want to hear all that."

"I didn't mind," Sam shrugged. "Sometimes we all need someone to vent to."

"Thanks," Ethan nodded. He glanced at the clock. "Great. It's three. I better get started with dinner."

Sam paused. "You're the cook?"

"So you had mom's oatmeal, huh?" Ethan grinned. "During the week, we have more staff. But like I said, it's hard enough paying them during the week. On the weekends, it's just me and mom. We take turns cooking. She takes breakfast and lunch. I usually take dinner. I'm also the maintenance worker and the bookkeeper. "

"So you're basically running the place."

"Basically. If you're looking for your friend's room, I believe he's on the second floor. The staircase is down this hall and to the right."

Sam nodded in gratitude. He started to walk away when a thought occurred to him. "Uh, Ethan, I know you're like crazy busy but there's this cold spot in front of my friend's room."

"You know you're not the first person to mention that. It's weird because it's only right there too. I've checked it a thousand times but I can't find anything wrong. If your friend wants to move, he can feel free. There are plenty of empty rooms."

"I think he might take up you up on that. See you later, Ethan."

He heard the man shout a farewell over his shoulder as he set out to start dinner. Sam only hoped it was more edible than this morning's offering. He didn't think Santana needed anymore weapons. He sighed in relief as he finally found the stairs. Taking them two at a time, Sam bound up the stairs, eager to just get Puck and get back to the others. This little adventure took way more time than he thought.

As he was leaving the stair well, he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was actually colder this afternoon than it was the previous night. He really needed to get Puck to a warmer floor. Especially if he was going to be doing this fetching Puck thing every two hours. The closer Sam got to Puck's door, the colder it got. He pulled his hoodie over his knuckles as he knocked. There was no response. He turned to see if he spotted Puck down the hall but there was no sign of him. Besides Ethan said he was going to his room. Maybe he really was napping. Sam knocked again. There was still no response.

It was quiet, dangerously bordering on being too damn quiet for his liking. If it was one thing that he'd learned in the two years he'd known him, it was that Noah Puckerman wasn't quiet. He was always humming, or talking, or ranting about something. The point was that he was always making noise. But now it was quiet. Too quiet. Sam knocked on the door once more, trying to keep the anxiety that was feeling from showing. He pressed his eat against the door, straining and hoping to hear some sort of movement inside. But it remained eerily still.

"Dude, come on. It's just me." There was still no response. "Puck, open the damn door!"

He didn't want to admit to being worried earlier, but now that he was alone and not getting an answer, he was over that shit. He was actually very worried. Between the general weirdness that was Puck so far this weekend and the cluster-fuck of a scene earlier, Sam was beyond concerned. He started to raise his hand to knock again when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Cursing his own stupidity for failing to notice that before pounding on the door like a psycho, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The feeling of wrong that drove him to follow after Puck only intensified as he stepped fully into the room. It was neat and orderly. Pretty much the total opposite of Puck. His best friend was a textbook example of pure organized chaos. Everywhere he went, Puck left some sort of sign he was there. Even the corner of the Evans' family motel room he claimed for the majority of the summer screamed that at some point Puck was there. But now… there was nothing. Brittany was right. There was something wrong here. And it was all about Puck.

"Puck? Dude, you in here?"

There was no response. The knots in his stomach continued to twist. He looked around the empty room and frowned. Puck's bag remained packed at the foot of the bed. The bed itself was clearly never slept in and was still neatly made.

"Puck? Where the hell are you?"

He was yelling now and he really didn't care. It wasn't as if anyone would notice. Santana and the others were most likely on the third floor as it was the closest to what they were claiming as their room. And if the others were still around, he could give two shits if he was disturbing them. They probably wouldn't care even if they did hear him. As he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes landed on the one place he hadn't thought to look yet. The bathroom door was closed shut.

"Dude, if you're just in here taking a shit or something, I swear I'm gonna…."

The words died on his lips as he stared in disbelief and horror at the sight that greeted hi when he opened the bathroom door. He finally found Puck and god how he wished he hadn't. Puck was slumped against the bathtub with the shower curtain wrapped around his throat. Tightly wrapped around his throat. And he wasn't moving. Puck was always moving but now… he wasn't. And there was a shower curtain wrapped around his goddamn throat.

"Puck?" Sam asked, in quiet disbelief. He didn't even blink as his legs gave out and he fell heavily against the cold tile floor. He felt bile rising in his throat as he stared at the lifeless form of his best friend. Several thoughts were competing for his attention but the only one he could grab hold of was: how the hell did we end up here?

They had plans. It was supposed to be New York or Bust. Their story was not supposed to end on some dingy inn floor in the middle of nowhere, Ohio. He shouldn't have let him go. He should've held onto Puck. Sam pushed his hair out of his face and tried to look anywhere but at his best friend. He didn't know what to do. He knew what he should do but he just couldn't force his body to comply. Puck was dead. Without thinking, he crawled across the small distance between them to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"You bastard," he hissed. "You promised me you'd be fine. This is not fine!" he shook his friend's shoulder. And then Puck's head shot up from its slumped position as far as it could attached to the shower curtain. Wheezing, gasping sounds filled the previous silence and echoed loudly in the small bathroom. His hands went weakly to his neck and Sam could see he was fighting against the shower curtain. Sam fell backwards in surprise. "Holy shit!"

He didn't bother to think about how this was possible. He was just going to shut up and be grateful that Puck wasn't dead. He tried to help him get the shower curtain off but it was seemingly growing tighter the more they both fought. Sam saw Puck's struggles grow weaker. He stepped back thinking. There was no way he was going to stand there and watch his best friend die. Not when he just got a second chance. His brain searched for a solution and then he remembered.

"I'll be right back," Sam promised Puck. "Just hold on and keep breathing."

Sam swore Puck rolled his eyes. He smirked as he ran out the bathroom to Puck's bag. With a silent apology to his friend, Sam dumped the contents of his backpack on the bed and rifled through it looking for the birthday gift Santana gave him a few months ago. And then he found it. The bright red case shined like the salvation he hoped it provided. He raced back in the bathroom to find that Puck was no longer fighting. He was conscious but barely.

"You do not get to die," Sam snapped at him even as he started hacking away at the thin plastic curtain. "I'm so not breaking my promise to Brittany. You better stay the fuck awake, Puckerman!"

It took several moments longer than he wanted but soon he managed to cut the curtain down. As soon as the blade sliced through disconnecting it from the shower rod, the makeshift noose around Puck's neck loosened and fell away. He took a deep breath that gradually turned into a coughing fit as he tried to get air back into his starved lungs. Sam didn't hesitate to drop to floor beside him and pull the shaking teen into his arms.

"It's ok," he whispered. He ran his hands over Puck's back, trying to encourage him to breathe normally. "Just take your time. You're ok. We're ok."

As the wheezing and gasps gave way to controlled and steady breathing, Sam found himself full on cradling Puck to his chest. He didn't give a shit how it looked. He was too damn close to losing his best friend. If he had hesitated a moment longer in going in the room. If had wandered around downstairs any longer. If he hadn't thought about the damn Swiss Army knife. All the what ifs played in his head and the only thing keeping him from breaking down and blubbering like a baby was the solid, warm, breathing proof that he didn't screw up currently in his arms. He set his chin on the top of Puck's head and breathed with his friend.

They sat together in silence for what seemed like hours. Sam should've known that Puck was just as shook up by this whole scene by the fact that he was letting him hug him. They were both secure enough in their own sexuality to not be bothered by the occasional casual touches that occurred between friends. But they didn't do hugs. Not with each other at least. Sure they were both known to spontaneously hug the girls, and even occasionally Blaine, but they just didn't do hugs with each other. Until the day that Sam found Puck being choked to death by a shower curtain. Then all bets were off.

Finally, after Puck's breathing was as steady as it was going to get having been strangled only minutes before, Sam loosened his grip on his friend. He helped straighten Puck up and leaned him back against the bathtub. Even in the crappy lighting in the bathroom, Sam could see the deep, angry bruises around his neck.

"Looks like you'll be rocking turtlenecks for awhile," Sam joked weakly. Puck's hand flew up to his neck but Sam knocked it away. "Just leave it. I'll get you some ice later." Puck nodded. Sam sighed and moved so that he was sitting in front of him. For some reason, he wanted to keep an eye on that leftover shower curtain. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"What… happened?" Puck croaked hesitantly. "I don't know."

"Why the hell don't you know?" Puck's eyes were darting around the room in confusion and Sam could see he was still shaky. But he wasn't letting him off the hook. He needed to know what happened. "What do you remember?"

"I remember… we talked. Then we went back…. and I left again. I walked around for awhile… the doors were shut. So I walked around some more. I asked Mr. Schue if I could get my guitar from the safe. I got it and I came back here. I was playing and then… I felt sad, Sam. I felt really sad and I came in here. And I sat down…. and I don't remember anything after that. I just remember you were here."

"So you don't remember trying to hang yourself from a fucking shower curtain?"

Puck's eyes grew wider with disbelief. Sam knew his friend well. This was not acting. He was genuinely shocked. He watched as Puck turned his head to the shower. "I didn't… that… I didn't do this! I swear, Sammy. I would never do that to you or my mom or the others."

Sam started to accept it before he caught something else in the tone. "Why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"You said you wouldn't do that for us. But why not for yourself?"

"Whatever, Sam," Puck started to push himself off the floor. Fortunately, his body was clearly not listening to him any better than Sam's was before. Sam was able to grab him before he got all the way up and pulled him back to the floor.

"It's not whatever," Sam corrected. "And we are having this conversation right now. You owe me! Because even if we somehow forget about what the hell I just had to do to save your life, there's also the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm not going to sleep for weeks because I'm going to have that image stuck in my head. So, no, it's definitely not 'whatever'. Answer the question."

"You're not going to like the answer."

"I don't like a lot of things I know about. Doesn't change the fact that I need to know them."

Puck started to lean his head back but took a quick glance upward at the shower curtain and clearly decided against that one. He swallowed and Sam watched the bruised skin shift with the movement. He knew Puck was stalling. But that was fine.

"I… I've thought about it… before."

He was right. Sam didn't like the answer. But Sam was also right because he did need to know this. "Why?"

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Why not? And it's not just Lauren. It's… my life."

Sam nodded slowly. Puck didn't need to elaborate on that one. He knew the details of the life of Noah Puckerman. He knew the things he'd done to make sure his family had money. The deep sense of guilt he felt for his bullying of people that were now his closest friends. The pain he carried around about the daughter he'd never know. Sam knew all these things and he kicked himself every day for never considering that his friend might be cracking slowly.

"Why haven't you… before?"

"You might like that answer," Puck smiled a little. "You guys. You, my ma, my sis, Rach, San, Britt, Blaine… Beth. You guys keep me here."

There was so much more he wanted to ask. So much more he needed to know but he knew that it wouldn't be happening today. He just had one more question for him and then he would put this to rest… for now.

"This… you swear it wasn't you?"

"I swear. I wouldn't… definitely not here. I don't want to die here."

Sam laughed shakily and nodded. He felt tears welling in his eyes and he didn't try to hide it from Puck. Mostly because the other teen was on the verge of crying too. Sam mustered a weak grin. "Come on, we're going to repack your shit and you're moving upstairs to our room."

"Our room?"

"Hell, they already moved in, you might as well too," Sam said, helping Puck off the floor. They slowly made their way back into the bedroom. "At least if you're with me, I don't have to keep going off to find you." He heard Puck take a breath. "And you better not apologize for that. If the situation were reversed, would you come looking for me?"

"Of course."

"Then shut up and repack your crap," Sam ordered, halfheartedly. Puck frowned at the mess on his bed. "Don't start. I was in a hurry. I wasn't exactly thinking of neatly unpacking it neatly when you were choking to death."

Puck flinched before setting about repacking his stuff. Sam made a mental note to not mention the choking thing around Puck. He got the feeling that he wasn't going to be the only one that was having nightmares tonight. Sam busied himself trying to find any stray items that might've flown out of the bag in his wild search for the knife. He let out a deep breath as he spotted a guitar pick underneath the dresser. He paused though as he saw his breath hanging in the air. The room was even colder than when he barged in earlier.

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's get out of here."

"I'm almost done."

"No, you're done now. We'll come back for anything else later. Let's just go."

He felt like they were being watched. He told himself that he was just imaging things. He was stressed out. His best friend almost died in front of him. That was cause for a mental breakdown, right? Or maybe crazy was contagious and he and Puck were finally succumbing to the same madness that plagued Santana and Brittany. Whatever it was, he wanted out of that room. He reached over, took Puck's bag, shoved his guitar back in the case and handed it to Puck before grabbing Puck's hand and dragging him out the room.

He didn't let go even when they reached Sam's room. Both boys were panting from the effort of practically running up the stairs while Sam was searching for his room key. He didn't need to worry about that as the door swung open startling them. Blaine cocked his head to the side and stared at them.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"How the hell did you get in my room?"

"Santana stole the extra key from downstairs," Blaine shrugged, stepping back to let them in the room. As Puck passed him, Blaine's eyes locked on his throat. Sam caught the question that was about to come out and shook his head. Blaine nodded reluctantly.

Santana sat up from her previously reclined position on the bed between Rachel and Brittany. "It seriously took you two and a half hours to find Puck…. what's wrong?"

Sam would never understand how she could take one look at them and just know. Then again, Puck was sporting the nastiest bruise around his neck that any of them had ever seen. And he was about three shades paler than normal. That might have been a dead giveaway. That and the fact that Sam was still holding his hand. And Puck was holding his just as tightly.

The three girls were up in a flash and ushering the still shaky Puck to the bed. Rachel and Brittany sat with him sandwiched securely between them. Blaine pushed the armchair over closer to the bed and guided Sam to that seat. Santana perched on the edge of the chair while Blaine sat down on the floor where he could clearly see all of them.

"What happened?"

Puck opened his mouth but closed it a few silent moments later. His eyes met Sam's. And while Sam wasn't exactly terribly eager to recap the last few minutes, he had a feeling if he didn't, then the story was not going to be told. And he also got the feeling that was not an option. So he started from their conversation in the hallway earlier that morning and finished with his epic battle against the shower curtain.

For once his genius friends didn't have anything to say. And he didn't blame them. He could practically see the gears working in Rachel's head. She was trying to make this make sense but it didn't. There was no way this worked out to them being able to move past this. Everything changed today and they all knew it.

"I'm going to go get some ice," Blaine announced, standing. "Puck, maybe you should lie down for awhile. Mr. Schue wants us to have dinner together. I don't think he's going to accept that you're still napping."

Puck nodded but a moment of hesitation flickered in his eyes. Brittany put her arms around his shoulders. "You don't have to worry. Me and Rachel are here to protect you!"

"That makes me more worried," Puck admitted with a tiny smile. He let out a deep yawn and blinked sleepily. "Maybe I could use a nap."

Sam watched as he lay back on the bed with Rachel curled up beside him and Brittany sitting at the foot of the bed watching them both. Puck was completely unaware of their positions as he was knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Brittany pulled out her iPod and was quietly bopping her head to the music. Blaine returned with the promised ice and sat down beside Brittany on the bed. Wordlessly, she handed him one of ear buds which he accepted. He picked up a notebook and was busy writing songs while listening to whatever song Brittany was most likely choreographing in her head.

In other words, it was all normal. The crisis was averted… for now. So why was Sam still shaking? He felt a small hand slip into his. The tremors calmed slowly as Santana just sat on the edge of the seat holding his hand. Sam watched his friends and felt himself calming down. He squeezed Santana's hand gratefully.

"Thanks."

"It's what I'm here for," she shrugged. "Sam, do you believe him?"

"I want to," Sam said. "I really do. I believe that we all mean a lot to him. But I don't know… he's thought about it in the past."

"I know."

"Wait, you know?"

Santana scoffed. "I've known Puck for like eight years now. He and I are running a competition for which of us has the most fucked up life. He's at least ten points ahead of me. And up until last year, he didn't have a best friend who would support him. I've always had Britt. For better or for worse, I've got Britt."

Sam looked at the peacefully sleeping figure on the bed. He was shifting in his sleep like he normally did. He wasn't still. Which was good because Sam didn't think he could ever get that image out of his mind.

"If he didn't do this to himself… then who did?"

Sam tore his eyes away from Puck to look up at Santana. "That's the million dollar question."

"Look I know that Hudson, Hummel, et all, can be a nuisance but homicide? I don't think any of them have what it takes to try to kill someone, much less Puck."

"I don't know but he doesn't go anywhere alone," Sam said, resolutely. "He's with us. And more importantly, I don't care about Sectionals or even Nationals. He's out of the glee when we get back."

"Look at Sammy taking charge," Santana smirked, running her free hand through his hair. "Did I ever tell you that is such a turn on?"

"Yeah," Sam smirked, rolling his eyes. "And so is chocolate, air, breathing… there isn't much that doesn't turn you on, San."

She tilted her head to the side in thought. "You're right. What can I say? I'm in touch with my sexuality."

"And you want to be in touch with everyone else's."

"Being a hero makes you sassy. I approve."

"Yeah, let's see if you feel the same way after this weekend is over. Something tells me I'm going to be busy."

"He is a trouble magnet, isn't he?"

"Looking after him is starting to be a full time job. And can I just say that the benefits on this job suck? I should really look into starting a union for this. Especially since this job is a lot harder than I thought it'd be."

Santana laughed quietly. "Maybe we could put a tracker on him to make it easier for you. That way we'd always know where he was."

"It's the not where that causes the problems. It's the everyone else around him."

"Then we give him a taser," Santana replied as if giving Puck a taser would actually solve problems instead of creating a whole new set of epically horrible problems.

Before Sam could negate that one, Brittany and Blaine were both looking in their direction. "If Puck gets a taser, we get one too."

Sam shook his head even while pointing out the many reasons why none of them (Rachel included) should ever be allowed to even look in the general direction of a store that could possibly be selling tasers. It wasn't until much later that he realized that the tremors were completely gone and he was breathing a lot easier. His friends were kind of awesome.

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><p>*So I chose to end it on a happy note. I was tempted to end it before Sam met up with Ethan but that just seemed really pointless, lol. So I continued and let you all know that Puck is not dead. That doesn't mean that it's over though. The real fun is just about to start.<p> 


	3. Death is Rolling In Every Verse

**Summary:** When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship,

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms.P's happy land!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note:** I'd like to apologize in advance for this one. You'll know what I mean by the end of this chapter. It's a lot shorter than last chapter but I hopefully will update sooner than last time as well. Ok, so thanks as always to you wonderful reviewers. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. and I'm glad it's creeping people out. This chapter creeped me out as well. So enjoy!

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><p><strong>Death is Rolling In Every Verse<strong>

"That looks like it hurts."

Puck raised an eyebrow. "That's because it hurts, genius," he retorted. His voice was hoarse and his neck looked like something out of a horror film but it was bearable. The ice helped to reduce the swelling somewhat. It was only if you were up close that you could really tell there was something wrong.

"How are we supposed to hide this?" Blaine continued his experimental poking around the bruised skin. He apologized when Puck winced and glared at him. "I'm not Kurt. I don't carry around makeup that could fix this."

"You're useless to us as a gay man," Santana quipped from her place on the window seat. "And we're running out of time. Look, let's just go down there, eat and who the hell cares what they think if they even notice. I mean we're probably going to end up telling Chang-squared and Wheels eventually. Mr. Schue has used up his awareness quota for the month. And the other ones are so far up their own asses they wouldn't know something was wrong unless it came up and bitch smacked them in the face. Which by the way, I'm very comfortable with."

"Down, San," Rachel ordered.

"I could always tell them it was a byproduct of auto-erotic asphyxiation experimentation gone horribly wrong," Puck shrugged. Sam narrowed his eyes and looked to Rachel to help him be the voice of reason in a sea of a crazy. She was clearly fighting a smile of her own. And another one was lost. "What's the big deal? They're all stupid enough to believe it. They all think I'm a man whore anyway."

"It's sad but true," Rachel agreed.

"Fine! If anyone asks why your neck looks like a dark, evil rainbow we're going with kinky sex games," Sam growled, climbing to his feet. "Can we get going now? The longer we take to get there, the more likely they're going to be interested in why we were late."

"What crawled up his ass and died?" Blaine muttered. Brittany punched him in the arm and glared at him. "Oh, right. Never mind."

Sam shook his head as he walked out their room. The others were close behind him. Santana and Blaine kept themselves occupied by explaining to Brittany all the people that had died due to auto-erotic asphyxiation. Sam was a little concerned about why they knew that many names off the top of their heads. He was also a little concerned that Brittany seemed to forget that it was only a cover story. He glanced over his shoulder to see Puck and Rachel in the back of the small group.

Rachel was holding onto Puck's hand. He saw her thumb was rubbing circles on the top of his hand gently. Puck was wearing a soft smile as he listened to whatever she was saying. Well, at least something good came out of this. All things considered though, he really hoped they didn't figure out that they were totally in love this weekend. This wasn't his week in the pool. He made a mental note to see who did pick this weekend. Santana wasn't above cheating and creating extreme circumstances to push them together. Definitely had to check that one out.

Thankfully they were not the last ones to arrive in the dining area so they avoided a lot of uncomfortable stares and questioning. After they got their dinner, they sat down at the table they laid claim to earlier in the day. Sam was happy to note that Ethan was a much better cook than his mother. The food was actually edible and fortunately couldn't be used as weapons. Not that it stopped Santana from trying. He was pretty sure that Santana, Puck and Blaine were about three minutes away from launching an epic food fight (even bigger than the one that got them banned for life from the Denny's by the motel) when Finn approached the table prompting an abrupt cease fire.

"What?" Santana asked, flatly.

Finn ducked his head for a moment and then glanced back at Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn, who were clearly the ones behind his visit. That was just great. "I, uh, kind of just wanted to talk to Puck."

Puck lifted his head up from the mashed potatoes he was clearly contemplating throwing at Santana regardless of the cease fire to face his former best friend. "About what?"

"About this morning."

"Nothing to talk about, Hudson."

Finn sighed. "Look, dude, I just want to talk. That's all."

Puck huffed. "Fine. Talk."

"Alone?"

"No," Brittany, Blaine and Rachel chorused together. They looked at each other in confusion before shrugging. "Puck stays here."

"What they said," Sam agreed. "You want to talk, so talk. No one's stopping you."

Finn sighed heavily. "I get it, ok? But I promise you. I'm not going to hurt him."

Sam gave Puck a look, which he returned with one of his own. "Fine, you have five minutes." Puck rolled his eyes.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," he stood up. "Come along, Hudson. You realize those ten minutes started the minute you came to the table."

"But you just said…" Finn trailed off as Puck grabbed his sleeve. His friends watched as Puck dragged the hopelessly confused Finn away from the table. Sam didn't need to look to know that Santana was keeping time. He also didn't bother to hide the fact that he was concerned. They still didn't know how Puck ended up being strangled by a shower curtain. It took some serious contemplation, but he did believe Puck when he said that he didn't do it to himself. But now he was really worried about who did.

"My money is on a ghost," Blaine tossed out as soon as Puck and Finn were out the door. It ceased to worry Sam that they were all on the same wavelength. After the third or fortieth time it happened, he just accepted that they were all weirdly connected and moved on. Still…

"A ghost, Blaine?" he asked, skeptically.

"Yes, a ghost. Think about it. That would totally explain all the weirdness going on around here."

"But it doesn't explain the number of times you were dropped on your head as a baby," Santana retorted. "There are no such things as ghosts."

"How come we can all accept that the bus driver is a vampire but we're negating the possibility of ghosts?"

"Blaine, Mr. Jenkins is a vampire in the figurative sense. He's not actually out to suck our life essences regardless of what Brittany said," Rachel explained patiently. Or rather as patiently as one could when their eyes kept flickering in the direction of a certain doorway. Sam snickered.

"Mr. Jenkins is so a vampire in the literal sense," Brittney protested. "And I agree with Blaine. It's totally a ghost."

"Great, that's two votes for a ghost," Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyone with a logical suggestion?"

"Ok, mock me now but you're going to feel so stupid when it turns out that I'm right."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Dude, if it turns out that you're actually right about this. I'm not going to feel stupid. I'm going to be terrified because the laws of logic and reasoning have completely stopped making sense. I'm also going to be hiding because the apocalypse has arrived. You're never right."

"That's not true. What about the time that I… oh, yeah. Never mind. There's the time that I…. oh… that ended up being about horses. Ok then, what about the time we…. Oh, yeah, that got set on fire. Ok, so there is always a first!"

"I'll be waiting in breathless anticipation," Sam muttered. His eyes drifted to the doorway just in time to see Finn coming back. Alone. He was out of his seat before he even realized it. "Where is he?"

Finn's eyes widened as he took a step back. "He's right outside in the hallway! He said you were wound tight but I didn't think it was this bad."

Sam narrowed his eyes and resisted the urge to punch him. Instead he stalked out into the hallway and found Puck exactly where Finn said he was. His best friend was leaning against the wall opposite from the dining area and smirking at his confusion.

"You should try frowning less," Puck suggested. "It tends to lead to early wrinkles."

"Shut up," Sam snapped, leaning next to him. "What did Hudson want?"

"To babble about how we used to be friends and how we have history and I shouldn't forget that and yada yada," Puck waved a dismissive hand in the air. "It's a good thing he's too stupid to notice things like bruises around someone's neck or else I probably would've had to deal with Quinn and Mercedes' idea of mothering. That's horrifying."

Sam snorted in response. Puck nudged him with his shoulder. "What?"

"You want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Talk about the fact that you're silently freaking out," Puck replied quietly. "Look, I get it. That shit was traumatizing for me too. But I'm here and I'm fine, thanks to you."

Sam's hand twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I know you're here. I'm not doubting…."

"Oh really? Then why have you not looked me in the eye since we got back to the room?"

And then there was that. He should've known that Puck would pick up on that. But he was hoping that the near death experience would occupy his mind longer than it did. Then again this wasn't the first time Puck's ADHD and criminally shortened attention span let him down. It most likely wouldn't be the last either. He was searching for a response that would end this awkward conversation when he felt a warm hand on his. He didn't say a word as Puck guided his hand to the space right above his heart. Sam felt the steady heart beat underneath his palm along with the gentle rise and fall of Puck's chest. He was alive.

"I keep thinking about it," Sam admitted. He lifted his eyes to meet Puck's gaze head on. "I just keep thinking… what if. There are thousand ways that situation could've ended differently. And by differently I mean with you being dead."

"But it didn't," Puck assured him. "I'm here and as fine as I can be, I guess."

"Now that did not sound reassuring at all!"

Puck grinned. "You know what I mean, ass."

"I know. Just… give me some time to wrap my head around this one. That was seriously intense."

"Ok," Puck patted him on the arm. He didn't move Sam's hand from his chest, nor was Sam in a hurry to do so either. He really didn't care about how odd the position was. Puck was alive. Puck was breathing. The hell with everything else. After a few silent moments, he felt a rumble in Puck's chest as he friend laughed. "So you guys started your bootleg detecting yet?"

"It lasted for about a minute. Blaine and Britt are rolling with a ghost theory."

"And you, San and Rach are going with what?"

Sam glared at him. "Not a ghost."

"Ah. That's helpful."

"And your theory, oh wise one?"

Puck shrugged. "I don't have one. That's what I have you for."

"I thought my job was finding you. Since when did it include all these other things?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to read the fine print in contracts before you sign them?"

"I know that for the future. I will not sign friendship contracts without first checking to make sure that I'm not signing up to be someone's full time guardian."

"Better not," Puck snorted. "That position has been filled by me. I don't plan on giving it up any time soon. Just think of all the shit I could get into in New York. I could accidentally start a gang war by wearing the wrong colors on the wrong block!"

"You're right," Sam sighed, in mock resignation. "I guess I should just suck it up and deal with your ass."

"I guess so. It could be worse."

"How?"

"I could be Santana." Sam conceded that he did in fact have a point. "Or Brittany."

"You're right. Ok. I get it. That last one was just too much."

Puck laughed again. "You could always make your job a little easier, you know?"

"Oh, how so?"

"You could always get me that Taser you were talking about," he replied with a wink. Sam lifted the hand that was on his chest to smack his best friend in the head. "Ouch! What the hell?"

"You were supposed to be sleeping! You clearly were not sleeping if you heard that conversation because it happened when you supposed to be sleeping!"

"What happened to your sympathy? I almost died."

"But as you keep telling me, you didn't. So sympathy is done for the day."

Puck narrowed his eyes before smiling. "Welcome back."

Sam grinned. "Thanks, bro."

"It's what we do." Puck stretched and winced as his neck obviously protested that movement. "There's one good thing about being stuck in this hell hole."

"And that is?"

"I don't have to explain this one to my mother," Puck grimaced. "That woman has eyes like a hawk. And she's not dumb enough to believe the auto-erotic asphyxiation thing."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "About that…. have you ever…" he paused. "You know what? Never mind. I probably don't want to know." Puck merely arched an eyebrow and smirked. After a few more moments, Puck sighed and pushed himself off the wall.

"Ready to go back? I think I've seen Rachel's head poking around the corner more than once."

Sam was pretty sure it was definitely more than once. But he felt it better not to mention that to Puck less he hear the whining begin about them smothering him. Puck really was on his way to recovery. That was good because at the moment, Sam still felt like his head was spinning.

"I'm going to hang back for a bit," he finally said, sensing that Puck was waiting for an answer. "I think I need a moment."

"Ok, but be careful," Puck warned, seriously. "We've seen how well solitude has worked for me this weekend."

"But that's the difference between you and me. You're a trouble magnet. It's like you're trying to be one with trouble or something. Me, on the other hand. I'm a good boy."

"You're also full of shit," Puck countered. "You gave up the good boy shtick the minute you signed that best friends forever contract with me, Satan and Blaine."

"There really was a lot of fine print I didn't see," Sam feigned surprise. "Oh well, it's a good thing it works both ways, huh?"

"Yeah, it does. This forever thing is pretty mutual. So avoid shower curtains, please?"

"I promise to avoid shower curtains without you and/or a Swiss army knife present."

"That's all I ask," Puck grinned. "See you later."

"Later, bro."

Sam kept his eyes locked on his friend until he saw him disappear into the dining area. He wasn't kidding when he said being Puck's friend was turning into a full time job. The other boy had been through the ringer in the past few weeks and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep him from spinning apart. But Sam would be there no matter what. Because no matter how challenging (read: headache inducing) Puck could be, he was a good friend. Though he often downplayed his involvement in the "Stop Sammy from Being Homeless and Miserable" plan, Sam knew that it was pretty much all because of Puck.

It was Puck who showed up at the Evans' motel a week after school let out with his little sister in tow. He claimed that he was suckered into babysitting all summer and figured that they could be miserable with the brats together. Then somehow he found out about the "free" dance lessons for his sister that just so happened to be taught by Brittany and Rachel. Blaine got involved when Stevie decided that he was too "manly" for dance and wanted to learn an instrument. Sam also hated the fact that his brother only took piano because he didn't want to learn the guitar like his "lame ass" older brother. Blaine, apparently, was very versatile and was able to offer both piano and guitar lessons (only after Stevie learned that Puck played guitar... then it was cool). The former Warbler gave him pro bono lessons because he claimed it was helping him earn extra credit at school. The fact that he transferred schools did not escape Sam's attention.

Sam would've been satisfied with all that. His siblings were happier than they'd been in a long time. And he didn't need to worry about pretending everything was ok as much around them. He had a few hours every day where he could just be a teenage boy and not practically a teenage parent. So really Puck's genius plot succeeded. But apparently he wasn't satisfied with just that. About a month into this new and sudden friendship that he had with all of them, Santana Lopez appeared.

It was the day of some recital so both his parents were there as well. And it just so happened that Santana was there to bitch about the "lazy ass billing bitch" at the clinic where her father worked. Apparently she was on her way out the door. Too bad they didn't know someone with medical billing experience. Oh, wait, didn't Sam mention once that his mother worked as a medical billing specialist? And that was how Santana Lopez got his mother a job. And with a steady source of income rolling in on a regular basis, it wasn't difficult for them to get a loan to help pay for a new house. The new house they moved into less than three months ago. His friends had really come through for him and his family. True, they were almost transparent in their efforts but it was the fact that they cared at all. That they were able to put aside their petty conflicts (or the fact that Blaine barely knew them) and come together to help his family that Sam stuck around them despite their crazy. And the fact that Puck was the one that brought them all together in the first place just meant that Sam was willing to put up with a lot of insanity if it meant keeping him in his life.

"And here we go with the feelings," Sam muttered to himself. He glanced at his watch and frowned at the time. Dinner was pretty much over. He supposed he could go back in and collect the others but he meant it when he said wanted some time to think. He definitely wasn't going to get space or quiet time when he was with them. So he left them to their own devices and started back to his (their) room.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he started down the most direct route back to the room. When he was with the others he didn't notice the almost obscene number of mirrors in the hallway. He made a mental note to ask Ethan what that was about. It was a little creepy. His eyes darted towards his reflection. He took in the hunched position and furtive glances. He wondered how long it would be before he managed to look some other way. Probably as long as it took for him to get Puck back to normal.

With a deep sigh, Sam kept moving down the hallway. He was halfway to the stairs that would lead to his room when he felt a chill. That was off because he wasn't anywhere near Puck's room. Ethan said that the cold spot only centered in front of Puck's room. He pulled his shirt sleeves down again. This place was really creepy. He couldn't wait to leave. He started up the stairs when he felt it again. He felt like someone was watching him. He whirled around but there was no one there. As he was turning back to face the stairs, his eyes happened to glance at his reflection in the mirror. But this time it wasn't his reflection.

There was a woman staring back at him. He was pretty sure that he was still a guy. A part of him wanted to check but there was a woman in the mirror staring at him. That kind of took precedence at the moment.

"This isn't real, Sam," he muttered to himself. "You're stressed out worrying about Puck and his insanity. You're naturally losing grips with reality too. This isn't happening." He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped with everything in that when he opened his eyes there wouldn't be a woman in the mirror. He cracked an eye open cautiously and was relieved to see his own eyes reflected there. "Oh, thank god."

He took a deep breath and almost doubled back to the others. But he shrugged it off. No need to get Puck any more hyped up than he already was. And definitely didn't need to give Blaine or Brittany any more ammunition for their ghost theory. Decision made he started back up the stairs and walked straight into the woman from the mirror. Her dark eyes were narrowed as she glared at him.

"You can't have him."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"He's mine!" she hissed. He felt his skin crawling at her words. Was she talking about Puck? "You're in my way."

"Look," Sam held his hands up. "I can move to the side."

"You're trying to take him," she continued as if Sam never spoke. "You can't have him. He's mine."

Sam didn't have time to worry about where this conversation was going. The woman's eyes grew colder and he felt two hands on his chest pushing him backwards. He felt every one of the ten steps he'd managed to climb. His head connected against the wall when he finally reached the bottom. And his last thought before everything went dark was that Blaine was right. And he was totally terrified.

* * *

><p>*Cliffhanger? I think so. Also, finally someone other than Puck getting picked on. This took a lot for me. I feel like I'm growing as a person here, lol. Hope you all enjoyed this story. As you can see, we're definitely moving into supernatural territory.<p> 


	4. Half The Words Don't Mean A Thing

**Summary:** When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship,

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms.P's happy land!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note:** So glad everyone liked that last chapter. This one hopefully continues the creepy. A lot of dialogue but I had to get everyone on the same page. Hope you like.

* * *

><p><strong>Half the Words Don't Mean a Thing <strong>

The first thought that sprang to Sam's mind once he'd clawed his way from the blissful oblivion he was in was, 'goddamn, I hurt." The next thought that came to mind was 'oh, shit. Where am I?' And his final but ever present thought?

"Where's Puck?"

"In his room."

Sam jumped and then winced in pain. He wasn't expecting an answer to the question he'd somehow asked aloud. Or rather he wasn't expecting to have that question answered by Artie. His lips turned downward in confusion as he looked between Artie and Mike. This was different.

"The usual crew are currently fighting with Kurt, Mercedes, Quinn and Finn in the first floor lounge area… again," Mike reported, sensing Sam's confusion.

"What happened?"

"That's kind of the question we were all hoping you knew the answer to. One minute you were with Puck and the next we find you lying at the bottom of the stairs."

Sam's brow furrowed. What? How did he end up at the bottom of the stairs? And judging from the extreme amount of pain he was in at the moment as well as the grim looks on Artie and Mike's faces, he was going to go out on a limb and assume that he hadn't walked down the stairs. So he fell? Why didn't he remember that? The last thing he clearly remembered was talking to Puck and then… a whole lot of nothing until this point.

"Where are we?"

"In the staff break room. It's pretty isolated, which means that no one heard you scream like a little girl when Mr. Schue popped your shoulder back in place."

"I never knew someone could scream that loud while unconscious," Artie mused. "I also didn't know Santana had working tear ducts."

"San was crying?" Sam tried to push himself up but felt his arm give with the effort. "Ok, that hurts. Not trying that one again!"

"Please don't. According to the WebMd app on Rachel's phone, you have bruised ribs, a mild to moderate concussion and the previously dislocated shoulder. Mr. Schue has been on the warpath trying to get some kind of medical personnel here since he's not entirely keen on relying on advice from a phone. Especially since the app first said your symptoms were indicative of death."

Sam snorted and ran a mental inventory. His ribs didn't feel bruised. His body ached but he didn't feel the shortness of breath that usually came with bruised ribs. Judging from the headache, the concussion was a definite possibility. Still, if he were supposedly that badly injured, where the hell were his so-called friends? "Ok, so I get why I'm here, but why is everyone else fighting… again?"

"Because Puck was the last one to see you before your accident," Mike replied with an unhappy twist to his lips. "And with that brilliant observation combined with the bruises on Puck's neck led to the stupidest leap of logic since the brilliant 'If Kurt tells Blaine he's a cheater, Blaine will leave McKinley'. They think you and Puck fought and he pushed you."

"Ok, seriously? What the fuck?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much what we said. But apparently things like common sense and reasoning mean nothing to anyone anymore," Artie grumbled. "They're turning savage like this was _Lord of the Flies_."

"Yeah, and Puck's pretty much the first sacrifice," Sam added. He finally succeeded in sitting up straight and frowned as the change in altitude caused his aching head to swim. "My head really freaking hurts."

"That would be the concussion," Artie shrugged apologetically. "Really wished you remembered what happened though. Puck seemed really worried about you."

"Actually I think he was more worried about having to go back to his room."

"Wait," Sam interrupted. "He's where?"

Artie frowned worriedly. "I told you before, he's in his room."

"No," Sam murmured. "He can't go back there. But why….." he groaned as he finally remembered what happened to him before he fell down the stairs. "Oh, no. We have to get to Puck."

"Why?"

"Because Blaine was right."

Mike was on his feet almost immediately. Sam gave him a look. "Dude, I remember you told me that Blaine being right about something was pretty much cause for immediate concern. Consider me concerned." Sam snickered. "So what was he right about?"

"Uh, you see I did get pushed down the stairs… by a ghost."

"A ghost?"

"Yes."

"And this ghost pushed you down the stairs because….?"

"Because apparently I'm getting in the way when it comes to Puck."

Artie and Mike exchanged glances and seemed to be engaged in a long silent conversation. As the time slowly ticked on, Sam felt more and more ridiculous. The story sounded stupid even to his own ears and he knew it was true. There was no way that they were going to…. "Ok, so it's a ghost."

"Wait, you actually believe me?"

"Sure."

"Why is it that everyone seems so accepting of something that clearly makes no sense?"

"Dude, spirits are all around us," Mike explained, seriously. "Just because you don't see them, doesn't mean they're real."

"Ok, spiritual talk later. Help me up. I gotta get to Puck. He shouldn't be alone."

"But I thought you said that she wanted him. So shouldn't he be safer alone?" Artie questioned even as he and Mike helped Sam to stand up. The blonde swayed somewhat before pushing it to the side. He had concussions in the past. This wasn't a major one. He was just happy that he was further down the stairs or he might not be walking at the moment.

"She wants him dead," Sam finally replied, swallowing back the nausea that the memories of that particular event brought back. "That's why she's pissed at me. I stopped her from trying to kill him once. And I'm going to stop her again."

"You think you can make it upstairs by yourself?" Mike asked, suddenly.

"Uh, yeah, probably. Why?"

"Because I think I have an idea and I need Artie to help me."

Sam looked between his two friends and shrugged. He wasn't on their wavelength and that was fine by him. He was only concerned with getting to Puck before it was too late. Again. And after this was over, he was seriously going to handcuff his best friend to him. Because this shit needed to end now.

"Fine. If I take the stairs slowly I should be able to make it."

"Dude, why don't you just take the elevator?"

Sam blinked. "There's an elevator?"

* * *

><p>Five minutes (and a sheepish elevator ride) later, Sam was standing in front of Puck's room. He didn't bother to knock. The cold was back and he was visibly shivering. He knew that meant nothing but badness ahead. He didn't bother to knock. His breath was visible in the air again. Puck's friendly ghostly stalker was definitely around. So, he decided to take a page out of Santana's book and throw caution (and logic) to the wind. He rammed his good shoulder into the door, grimacing as the move aggravated his already bruised and aching body. He jumped to his feet almost immediately, looking around the room for signs of his ghostly attacker. All he saw was Puck staring blankly in his direction.<p>

"Sam… you're ok?"

Sam blinked. "I'm fine. You're ok?"

"I'm not the one that took a header down the stairs and just decided to ram into a door," Puck pointed out slowly. "You could've knocked."

"I… yeah, I could've. But I thought something might have happened to you."

Puck glanced down and shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Oh," Sam said, feeling slightly ridiculous now, especially in the face of Puck's never-ending calm. "Well then… I guess I didn't need to do that to the door then."

"Probably not."

"Ok. Whatever. I'm sure the door will forgive me. Get up. We're getting the hell out of this room."

"Actually I'd rather not," Puck said, sitting back against his pillows. "It's nice here."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "No it's not. This room is not nice and you know it."

"Its fine, Sam. You can go now. I'm fine here."

"No, Puck," Sam said, firmly. "I'm not leaving here without you. So get your ass up and let's go. My head hurts like hell."

"Then you should go lie down," Puck suggested, not moving from his spot on the bed. Sam blamed the concussion for not noticing the strange, almost empty tone in his friend's voice. The blank look, the monotone voice, the lack of childish yet endearingly stupid nicknames? The distinct lack of the use of the dreaded Sammy? Yeah, something wasn't right here. And Sam had a good idea as to what that something was.

Sam reluctantly tore his gaze away from his friend and looked into the mirror. Much as he expected the woman that pushed him down the stairs was standing beside Puck. Her hand was through his back. It didn't seem like he was in pain but there was a fist currently in his chest. That couldn't be good. And based on what he was seeing, it was if the ghost was speaking through Puck. It was some sort of bizarre ventriloquist act. And it was over the minute Sam's eyes met hers through the mirror. He smirked, despite the pants ruining terror he felt invading every cell of his body at the moment.

"I see you."

Her probably pleasant when she had a pulse features contorted with rage even as she pulled her hand away from Puck. His best friend gasped and fell face forward on the bed. Sam started to move forward to check on him when he was suddenly lifted off his feet by a viselike grip around his neck. She flickered in front of him. Of course, she went for the neck again. Maybe she had some kind of fetish. Kinky dead bitch.

"Sammy?" Puck asked weakly. He sat up slowly and rubbed his chest gingerly. His confusion was evident as he took in the strange scene in front of him. "That's a ghost."

"Duh," Sam choked out.

"Blaine was right."

"I know. I'm worried too."

"This is fucked up in ways that I can't even begin to describe," Puck muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But there is one good thing about this."

Sam didn't bother to hide the incredulous look on his face. "What the hell could possibly be good about us dealing with a ghost with a choking fetish and Blaine being right?"

"I'm not crazy," Puck replied with a casual shrug. If Sam had the capacity to do, he probably would've punched his friend. But he didn't because he was kind of being choked at the moment. Which was something that Puck seemed to be forgetting. Asshole.

"A little help?" Sam gasped, his hands still clawing at the fingers on his neck.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that!" Puck snapped, irritably. "It's a ghost, dude. I think it's going to take something a little bit more sophisticated than me tackling her to get her to stop."

"First, who taught you the word sophisticated? And second, how do you know if you don't try?"

Puck narrowed his eyes. "Clearly, she's not choking you hard enough if you can still get complete sentences out." That situation was quickly rectified as the grip grew tighter. Puck's eyes widened and he let out a tiny huff air, accompanied by another shrug and a "fuck it" before he attempted to tackle the ghost as previously suggested by Sam.

"Stay out of this," her voice echoed around the room. "I'll deal with you in a minute." She glanced at Puck who was mid lunge. Sam could only watch in horror as Puck went flying across the room and crashed into a dresser. He didn't get back up. Sam felt his stomach drop. His stupid suggestion might've just killed Puck. And Blaine was right. This was a totally fucked up trip and he very much wanted to go home right now.

Suddenly the door slammed open once more. Sam glanced out the corner of his eye to see Santana, Will, Finn, and Rachel at the door. "Sam!" Santana tried to run through the door but Will pulled her back at the last moment. "Let me go!"

"San, no," Sam croaked.

"Hold on, we got something that might help!" Mike's voice was heard down the hall. Will ended up stepping away from the door and letting both Artie and Mike through. Sam was at a loss as to what they possibly thought could help until both teens threw what looked like four or five salt shakers in the room. One of the glass bottles hit Sam on the head while simultaneously spraying the room with salt. He was working up the energy to glare at them when the grip on his neck suddenly disappeared…. That grip being the only thing that was holding him up. He crashed to the floor with a heavy thud. This time Will didn't stop Santana from rushing to his side.

"I cannot believe that actually worked!" Artie exclaimed around an amazed laugh. Sam glared at him.

"You didn't know it was going to work before you did it?"

"Well, it was a working theory," Mike muttered.

"A working theory based off what exactly?"

Artie and Mike exchanged sheepish glances. "_Supernatural_?"

"Unbelievable," Rachel shook her head for Sam. He was grateful. "You two based your decision on events that occur on a television show? What if you were wrong?"

"Then this would be entirely different conversation, wouldn't it?"

Sam had to give them credit for that that one. Still didn't stop him from being a little pissed at them… even if they did totally save his ass. He was definitely stocking up on salt before this night was over. He snapped out of his thoughts at the feel of a hand on his cheek. He looked up to see Santana's concerned eyes watching him.

"You with me, Trouty Mouth?" she asked, gently.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm good," Sam answered after mentally checking himself for any further injuries. Aside from the newly collected neck bruises that likely matched Puck's…. wait… "Puck? You ok?"

"Where is Puck?" Finn asked, looking around the room. There was a loud groan from underneath the remains of the dresser. Mike and Rachel hurried over to help move away the debris that was covering Puck.

So," Santana drawled. "Sam was being choked out by an abnormally pale and freakishly strong chick and Puck's buried underneath a dresser. Anyone here want to blame this one on Puck too?" she smirked at the silence. "Yeah. Didn't think so."

Sam grinned, even while keeping an eye on the excavation efforts. He really did love this girl. She was kind of awesome in a really bitchy way. And what made her more awesome was that it was almost always directed at people that weren't him.

"You think you can stand up?" Finn asked, kneeling beside Sam and Santana.

"I got this," Santana waved him away. She helped Sam stand up and then glanced over her shoulder. "Midget, is Puck functional?"

Sam craned his head to see them trying to get Puck standing. There was a small cut on his forehead and a few new bruises. But he looked… alive. Truth be told, Puck looked like death before his introduction to the dresser. Now he just looked like warmed over death.

"Puck is functional," Puck protested, voice slurring. He swayed as he jabbed a finger in what was probably supposed to be Santana's direction. He withdrew his hand and patted his own chest. "Puck is fine."

"Puck is talking about himself in the third person and slurring more than he did the time after Blaine dared him to do six shots of tequila on an empty stomach," Sam said, grinning despite the entirely fucked up situation they were in. Puck directed his glare at Sam… or rather Sam assumed that was what he meant to do. He actually ended up staring at a spot on Sam's shoulder before his eyes rolled up in the back of his head. Mike managed to catch him before he hit the floor. "Not like I wasn't expecting that one."

"I have a question," Will finally spoke. Sam noticed that the man hadn't moved from his spot in the doorway. All eyes (well conscious eyes) flickered towards their confused teacher. "What the hell was that?"

Sam exchanged looks with Santana and Rachel. Both girls shrugged. Sam snorted. "You see, Mr. Schue. It's like this. This whole situation is what happens when Blaine Anderson is actually right about something. And on that note, I'm officially scared of the bus driver."

* * *

><p>*Hope you enjoyed. There wasn't a lot of pairings of any kind in this chapter and I have to just warn you now that most of the following chapters will be like this. I'm a Puckleberry girl at heart but this story isn't really focusing on that pairing that much. It's there but it won't be the major focus. So I just don't want to disappoint anyone that's reading and wondering why there isn't more. Hopefully this won't turn too many people away.<p> 


	5. Digging Deeper, Just to Throw It Away

**Summary:** When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship,

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms. P's happy land! Um, also this is a story by me. So expect some mild to severe Finn bashing. But to be fair I also threw in some Kurt, Quinn and Mercedes bashing too. Sorry to anyone that offends but it had to be done.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note: **So sorry about the delay. I had serious writer's block on this chapter. Also I made some slight changes to previous chapter. Nothing too drastic but I just wanted it to be clear that some things are different. I read over the chapter while I was trying to find inspiration to finish this one and I just couldn't let it be. But anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Gratuitous _Supernatural_ references abound in this chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Digging Deeper, Just to Throw It Away <strong>

Sam came awake with a slight start. It took a few minutes for him to realize where he was… and why there were two people pressed against him on either side. 'What the hell did I do last night?' And then he remembered. Puck, shower curtains, a trip down the stairs and the creepy ass ghost ventriloquism. Oh yeah, that was what he did last night. Which mean that…?

"At least tell me you bought me dinner first."

Sam snorted and opened his eyes to see Puck. His best friend was lying on his side, facing Sam, who in turn was sprawled on his stomach with his head turned towards Puck. Strangely, Sam did not find this odd even though he was pretty sure that they were not in those positions when they went to sleep. He also didn't remember Santana sleeping behind him. Again, not really that odd.

"I saved your life. Isn't that enough?"

"If I gave it up to every dude that saved me, how would I ever show my face in polite company?"

"Since when do we hang out in polite company?"

Puck pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You may have a point." He stretched and winced as he felt the effects of the past two days. "I hurt in places I shouldn't hurt and I definitely have splinters in places I shouldn't."

"And this right here is why I shouldn't have to buy you dinner first," Sam pointed out. "Because I'm the one that had to listen to you muttering about splinters in your ass while you were sleeping."

"About that…. I remember crashing into the dresser. I remember Hudson and Mr. Schue finally getting clued in and then nothing. So how did we end up in bed together with Rachel and San?"

Sam lifted his head slightly to see that Rachel was in fact curled up on the surprisingly large bed. She was pressed against Puck's back tightly. Sam smirked, earning a glare from his best friend. "Well, you want the truth or the version that's not going to make you look at Artie in a weird way?"

Puck frowned. "You didn't."

"We did. It was either that or let Finn or Mr. Schue carry you. I thought about it for awhile but San was pretty sure you'd hate us in the morning."

"She was right. But I can safely say I'm not terribly fond of you at the moment. Tell me that you didn't push me up here on Artie's lap."

"I can tell you that but it wouldn't be true," Sam grinned, enjoying the various emotions playing across Puck's face at the moment. It was the most animated he'd seen his friend in awhile. He was going to enjoy this moment as long as it lasted. "Artie's chair is pretty sturdy."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"Not anymore."

"Oh, I see how it is. Once you go crippled, you never go back?"

"Maybe you should've completed the job, Superman."

"I never thought you were a Superman kind of guy. I always thought you'd go for Batman," Sam mused.

"I would. But I'd totally make an exception for you."

"Aw, Puck, I'm touched."

He felt a rumble against his back as Santana tried, and failed, to repress her laughter. "That's for damn sure. You're both touched… in the head."

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't roll over and crush you?" Sam asked, semi seriously.

"Because the only way you got comfortable last night was flopping on your stomach and I'm pretty sure you'd start screaming like a little bitch if you tried to roll over right now." Sam lifted his injured shoulder experimentally. He didn't have it all the way up before he felt the twinge of pain. Santana might have had a point. So he'd let her live…. For now. "So are you two done with your ridiculous married people banter?"

"I thought it was humorous," Blaine mused from the window seat that he and Brittany were sharing.

"You would."

"I also have an announcement."

Sam turned his head towards Blaine already predicting this so called announcement. He was waiting for this moment since they got back to the room the night before.

"The salt worked."

"Wait, what?"

"The salt lines that Artie and Mike put up worked. I didn't see or hear anything last night."

"Oh, well that's great."

"And by the way, I was right!"

"And there it is," Sam muttered, burying his head on his pillow.

"Should you really be that happy to be right?" Santana pointed out. "I mean there is a ghost that is actively trying to kill Puck for some reason and willing to kill us to get to him. So I'm not exactly seeing the reason to celebrate here."

Blaine chewed on his lip. "Thank you for killing my proud moment with logic, Satan."

"You're welcome!"

Sam grinned. Sure there was still the not an all inconsequential issue of a ghost that was trying to kill Puck for some probably inane reason. They were still trapped inside the Inn with the ghost that was trying to kill Puck. And judging by his watch, they had about an hour before they had to go deal with the rest of the gleeks. But for now, he was content to lie back and bask in the awesome randomness that was his band of misfit friends.

"Oh, hey there, Mr. Creepers!"

On second thought maybe moving now wasn't such a bad thing.

* * *

><p>"Twenty bucks says that Kurt starts his fake apologies the second Puck walks through the door."<p>

"Twenty on Quinn trying to mother him."

"Oh, can I call Finn's awkward attempts at proving he's a better friend than Sam because he never got him thrown into a dresser?" Brittany chimed in.

Puck snorted. "Sure, Britt. But I don't really know why you're betting when we know that all of the above is going to happen. And seriously if the princess tries to touch me, I'm setting my ghost stalker on his ass. Maybe she'll get him before she kills me."

Sam smacked him on the shoulder, the only place he was reasonably sure Puck wasn't hurting. "Not funny."

"I thought it was."

"You have head trauma," Sam retorted, pushing the doors to the dining area open. "Your idea of funny is severely warped."

"As opposed to what it was before he went flying into a dresser?" Blaine asked, archly.

"Et tu, Blaine?" Puck gasped in mock betrayal. The six friends stopped short when they realized they were the center of attention. All eyes were locked on Puck. Three sets of eyes were assessing for any further signs of possession or ghostly disturbances. The others were trying to settle their own guilty consciences. While one set was just plain confused and frustrated. Puck smirked. "'sup?"

"So eloquent, Puckerman," Tina snickered. Puck grinned and swooped down to press a kiss against her cheek. "Not that I'm complaining because I do enjoy kisses from hot boys but what was that for?"

"For taking one for the team," he whispered, though Sam heard him clearly. He added his own nod in Tina's direction. The fact that they got to sleep in their own room (well Sam's room) without the others breathing down their necks was attributed to the awesomeness that was Tina.

The Goth unexpectedly broke into frantic hysterics when Will announced that he wanted them all in the same room. She started crying saying that she didn't want to be in the same room as the one the ghost was stalking. It didn't take long for Quinn and Mercedes to catch Tina's hysteria, even though the latter was faking it entirely. It all resulted in Will splitting them in two. Artie, Tina and Mike were forced to room with the others and Will. It was a nice reminder that they did have allies outside of their little unit.

"You owe me," Tina replied with a grin of her own.

"Whatever the lady wants," Puck said.

Tina's face turned serious. "I just want you to be safe and make it out of this alive. That will be payback enough for having to listen to them whining all night long."

"And she really means all night long," Artie murmured, tiredly. "Seriously, they whined about everything from ghosts to how they weren't really entirely wrong to whether or not Sam was serious about you quitting glee."

Puck raised an eyebrow in Sam's direction. The blonde merely shrugged. He was serious about it. But it was Puck's final decision to make. He just hoped he made the right one. He most likely wouldn't but it was the thought that counted.

"Contrary to popular belief, Sam doesn't make my decisions for me," Puck started. "He just makes the really important ones. I'm thinking about glee. Should I actually make it back to Lima, I'll consider staying."

"Puck, Sam, can I speak with you two for a minute?" Will's voice beckoned from across the room.

"It begins," Sam muttered. The two boys crossed the floor to where Will was standing alone. Out the corner of his eye, Sam was more than a little aware of the abnormal attention they were attracting.

"Yes, Mr. Schue?"

"Well, the thing is I really only needed to talk to you, Puck. But I got the feeling Sam wasn't letting you out of his sight."

Sam flushed but nodded. Was it his fault that every time he and Puck split up this weekend something horrible happened? Puck nudged him in the stomach and smirked. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I understand that you've been through a lot these last these last few days but if you ever feel like you're going crazy again, tell me. And I'll tell you that you're not."

"I just didn't think anyone would believe me. Sam barely did." Sam felt a twinge of guilt at that. He didn't really believe Puck at first.

"But you trusted Sam to have your back because he believes in you," Will pointed out, both for Sam's benefit and to argue his point. "I need you to know that I believe in you too, Puck. And even if this is the last time you perform in glee, I will continue to support you. So I need you to trust me. And that goes for you too, Sam. No more 'Made for Schue' edits."

Sam grinned. "How'd you know about those?"

"I started catching on that there was way too much tension to say that you guys were as happy as you pretend to be. Not to mention there are some pretty clear lines drawn in the sand. It's you guys versus Finn, Mercedes, Kurt and Quinn. But I respect that you've been trying to avoid dragging Artie, Tina and Mike into the mix."

"Well, they really don't have anything to do with this," Puck shrugged. "Didn't seem right to drag them in the middle."

"Even though they're clearly on our side," Sam felt the need to add. Will shook his head with a smile. "Thanks, Mr. Schue."

"No problem," he patted them both on the shoulder and used those hands to guide them back to the waiting group. "Alright guys, so as you're all probably aware now… there's a ghost trying to kill Puck."

"I bet they don't teach you how to handle these types of situations in college," Santana quipped. Will glared.

"As I was saying, the important thing to do now is to stay together and let's try to find a way out of here."

"But Mr. Schue," Artie held up a hand. "The doors are pretty much frozen shut. We tried several times yesterday and we can't get out."

"And if we were to get out, where are we going to go?" Mercedes chimed in. "I thought the roads were closed."

"They are but there has to be some other way."

"If any of you even so much as hint that we should give Puck up, I swear I will beat you all to death with Sam's guitar case," Santana warned, glancing in Quinn, Finn, Kurt and Mercedes' directions.

"Why do you automatically assume that we want him dead?" Kurt protested.

"Seriously, if you just stop to think about it, this was inevitable," Brittany repeated Kurt's words from the day before. "It was mostly likely always going to end tragically for Puck. It was always going to be either crazy, shot by a jealous husband or a drug overdose."

Tina and Will looked both surprised and angry at the direct quote. Kurt paled but cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "How did you remember all that?"

"I have a good memory for stupid shit," Brittany shrugged. There was a moment of silence before Puck snorted, practically collapsing in stomach cramping laughter. Brittany smiled as well knowing she was the reason for his mirth. Sam just welcomed the sound. It was too long since he heard Puck laughing like that.

"Yes, well," their teacher started once Puck's laughs started to quiet down. Will's lips twitched in amusement. "We need to come up with some sort of plan that will keep everyone safe. We're all going to get out of here. There is not a single one of you that is expendable. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Schue," they chorused together.

"Great, so does anyone have any other ideas since escape is not an option?"

"I just wonder why the ghost wants Puck," Mike mused. "I mean usually ghosts don't target a single person like this unless it's for a good reason. So I wonder what she wants."

"I don't really care why she wants him, she can't have him," Rachel hissed fiercely. Puck gave her a soft look. Sam made a mental note to check who put down this weekend in the pool. Because that lucky bastard totally just won at least two hundred dollars. Damn ghost.

"Dude, WWSADD?" Artie asked.

Puck smirked. "LARP?"

"LARP!" Artie met Puck's fist bump.

"Ok, in English for those of us that don't speak crazy boys," Mercedes waved a hand in the air. "What the hell do WWSADD and LARP mean?"

"What would Sam and Dean do? And Live Action Role-play. We're not getting out of here, so we might as well try exploring other options," Artie explained. "If we figure out why she wants Puck so bad, maybe we can figure out how to get him through the weekend without getting killed."

Sam wanted so badly to argue with that but he found that he couldn't. It made sense. Puck was no safer sitting in the dining area all day than he was trying to figure out why the ghost wanted him dead. And at least trying to figure it all out would help him feel like he was doing something with his life. Of course, Sam was probably reading way too much into this one. Most likely Puck just wanted to pretend he was in an episode of _Supernatural_. Sam shrugged. Who was he to deny his best friend his way overdue dose of fun this weekend?

"I'm in but for the record, I'm not Sam."

"But you whine like him," Puck muttered his breath. Sam elbowed him in the stomach. "Bitch."

"Ass."

"See you're totally Sam."

* * *

><p>After a lengthy discussion that Sam pretty much tuned out for the most part, it was decided that Puck, Sam, Santana, and Artie would go "investigate" the ghost, while the others would try to come up with a realistic escape plan. Sam wasn't exactly optimistic about either plan but he figured the others were more likely to succeed than him. Especially since he had such a crack team with him. More like cracked out team.<p>

"So how are we doing this? Good cop and bad cop? Or just straight bad cop?" Santana asked as they approached the office where Martha was working. They decided they would start with her. Or rather they decided to start with her. Sam was only here because well, someone needed to be the voice of reason and chaperone.

"San, we're just going to ask some questions," Puck said, patiently. "We are not going to lay a verbal smack down on an old lady."

"Whatever," Santana muttered. "That lady might be old but I'm telling you something about her just doesn't feel right."

"Goddamn feelings," Sam complained under his breath. The scowl he was wearing faded as the door swung open to reveal their target. Martha appeared startled to see the four teens at her door but it morphed into a more pleasant smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Meadows."

"Oh, good morning," she replied, with a breathy laugh. "I take it that you're feeling better today?"

"Yes, thank you," Sam smiled, brighter. "Mrs. Meadows, if you don't mind, we had a few questions about the Inn."

"Is everything alright?" there was a flicker of some emotion in her eye, especially as her eyes drifted towards Puck. Sam's smile faltered as he caught the look.

"Everything is fine," Artie stepped in and assured her. "We were just interested in the history of this place." Martha's eyes lit up and Sam got the feeling he was going to regret not staying with the others.

"Well, after my dear James passed away, this house felt too big for just me and Ethan. So we decided to turn it into an inn. We've been in business for the past fifteen years."

"And it's always been just the two of you?" Puck asked, cautiously. "Doesn't that get lonely… for Ethan?"

Another flicker passed through her eyes. "Ethan is perfectly happy here. I don't have to worry about his safety. He's a smart boy but he's too trusting. The real world would eat him up and spit him out. He's safer here with his mother. He doesn't have to worry about loose women using him for his money."

Sam was surprised when the woman glanced in Santana's direction. Maybe she wasn't as grandmotherly as he thought. And maybe he should steer this conversation in a different direction before Santana tested just how low her moral compass dipped and punched an old woman in the face.

"I'm sure Ethan is very happy," Sam forced a smile. "We were just wondering if it's only been you guys living here."

"Oh, we have some staff that lives here during the week," she calmed down and started talking again. Santana was still tense and Sam took her hand in his.

"Mrs. Meadows, I know you said we're the only show choir staying here, but…" Artie started, unsure of how to finish the question.

"I saw a woman in my room last night," Puck blurted out. "You have any thoughts about that?"

"Are you sure it wasn't one of your little friends?"

Puck glared at her. "No, it wasn't one of my friends. She had dark hair, dark eyes and looked super pissed. Maybe she's one of staff?"

"What room are you in?"

"312."

And that flicker was back again. She knew something. There actually was something to this whole ghost thing. Their increasingly more hostile hostess knew something but she definitely wasn't telling. Sam watched as she visibly shut down.

"I'll have Ethan look into your complaint," she said, changing subjects. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to get started on breakfast."

"But Mrs. Meadows, we just have a few more questions."

"I have nothing further to say on the matter," the woman said, her tone brooking no argument. "I don't know what you're trying to insinuate but I'm not playing your little games. Now hurry along and get ready for breakfast." With that said the woman turned on her heel and walked away.

"Still think she's like someone's grandmother?" Santana asked, archly.

"Yeah, someone's evil grandmother," Sam muttered in response. "Was it just me or does totally know something?"

"Definitely," Artie agreed. "Maybe we'll have better luck with Ethan."

As it turned out, they had much better luck with Ethan. They found him working on the staircase beside the dining area. Sam felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach as he moved closer to the place he first encountered the ghost. His eyes darted around to each of the mirrors nervously. He felt a gentle squeeze on the hand he hadn't pulled away from Santana. He looked up and gave her a grateful nod.

"Oh, hey, Puck, right?"

Sam shook off his thoughts as their approach attracted Ethan's attention. He put his tools to the side and stood up to greet the four teens. Now that they were standing side by side, the resemblance between Puck and Ethan was even more apparent. They had similar features but their difference was in the eyes. Ethan's eyes were flat and dull, while Puck's sparkled with mischief whenever he was around Blaine, Brittany and Santana (so basically all the time).

"Yeah, thanks by the way," Puck grinned.

"For?"

"Helping my wife over here find me." Sam rolled his eyes and didn't hesitate to smack his friend on the shoulder. Puck snickered. "Anyway, Mr. Meadows…"

"Seriously, call me Ethan. Mr. Meadows makes me feel old. Its bad enough you guys are running around here reminding me of my missed youth. I don't need to feel extra old on top of that." They laughed at the easy-going tone. Clearly, Ethan did not get his manners from his mother.

"Well, Ethan, we had a few questions about this place, if you don't mind."

"Sure, anything to keep me from checking out this stairwell again," Ethan shrugged. "I get really freaked out working over here. I keep feeling like someone's watching me or something."

"Yeah, not too fond of it myself," Sam muttered.

Ethan nodded. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Better," Sam assured him. "I was wondering what the deal is with the hall of mirrors anyway? It's really… weird."

Ethan smiled softly. "Yeah, that was inspired by one of our former staff members. She thought it gave the place character. I tried to tell her it was a creepy character but she loved mirrors. Her favorite story was _Through the Looking Glass._ So she wanted to turn the hallway into a funhouse. I couldn't say no."

"What happened to her?" Santana asked, quietly. "You said she was a former staff. Did she get fired?"

"No," Ethan sighed. "She left. I thought she would be the one that would stay but one ay she just left. Part of me wants to take those stupid mirrors down but they remind me of her and I just can't… you know?" Sam glanced first at Santana and then to Puck. Yeah, he knew exactly what Ethan met.

"Sorry to bring up any bad memories," Artie apologized, genuinely.

"No, it's ok. Me and Claude definitely didn't have any bad memories. They were actually really good. She was my best friend… and just... everything. She actually got me thinking about life outside this place. And then she just left. It hurts but that's the way life goes."

Sam felt the older man's heartbreak. He flashed back to their conversation the day before. Ethan was obviously miserable in the Inn but he was stuck. Sam really felt for him but he was more concerned with Puck. Because honestly, they were no closer to figuring out who the ghost was much less her motive for wanting Puck dead. So Sam decided to take a page out of Santana's book.

"Ethan, this is going to sound pretty weird but, uh, has anyone ever died here?"

Ethan snorted. "You think the place is haunted?"

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. "Seriously, why is everyone so damn comfortable with the idea of ghosts?"

"It's called having an open mind, Sammy," Santana corrected with a smirk, as if she hadn't been denying the probability of ghosts just the night before.

"You guys are funny. You remind me of how Claude and I used to act," Ethan laughed wistfully. "But anyway, back to your question. No, no one has ever died here. Trust me, as sick as it sounds, I'd use it to stir up some sort of publicity for this place. Nothing interesting happens here ever."

"So no one has ever reported seeing or hearing anything… odd?"

Ethan pursed his lips thoughtfully "I can't say that they have. The only unusual thing is people report that cold spot outside of 312. But other than that, there haven't really been any complaints about oddness." He paused for a moment. "Why are you guys asking about that stuff anyway?"

"Uh," Puck stammered. "It's just that… we're bored. And we figured we'd just ask some questions about the place."

"I hear that," Ethan nodded. "Sorry there's not a whole lot to do around here. But hopefully they're getting closer to getting the roads clear. I know you guys are probably really anxious to get home."

"You have no idea," Artie muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat and looked up at Ethan. "Thanks for talking to us."

"No problem, it was fun," Ethan grinned. "Reminds me of what life is like on the outside."

"If you ever get away, you should come visit us," Santana offered, surprising her three male companions.

"I might just take you guys up on that offer," Ethan nodded. He glanced at the clock. "Ugh, I should go check on mom's breakfast preparations. I think that oatmeal was actually concrete yesterday."

"That explains so much!"

Ethan laughed before walking away in the direction of the kitchen, leaving the four teens to contemplative silence.

"So exactly what did we figure out here?" Sam asked.

"Mrs. Meadows is a paranoid crazy bitch that's smothering the life out of her son slowly but surely," Santana replied hastily.

"No one died here," Puck added.

"So, the ghost is pretty much still a mystery," Artie concluded.

"Great, so mission was a failure," Sam huffed. "I am not surprised. But I am thoroughly depressed thanks to Ethan's story time."

Puck draped an arm around his shoulders and grinned teasingly. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll never leave you."

Sam snorted and pushed his best friend away. "Dude, you've spent an entire weekend perfecting the art of walking away from people."

"True, maybe I should rephrase this," he cleared his throat. "I will never go anywhere that you can't follow after me to drag my ass back."

Sam nodded. "Much better."

"You two are so weird," Santana rolled her eyes fondly. "Let's go see if the others failed as hard as we did."

They ran into the rest of the glee club walking down one of the hallways. Rachel, Brittany and Blaine brightened immediately at the sight of their missing friends. Brittany went to take her usual place on Puck's left side. And Sam could see the tension fading from Puck's shoulders. While Puck might be totally and completely head over in heels with Rachel, there was no doubt that he shared a weird connection with Brittany that none of them tried to understand or predict. Sam was content to watch and be amused.

"So what did you guys find out?" Blaine asked, flicking Santana on the arm.

"A whole lot of nothing," Santana replied, punching him on the shoulder. "You?"

"Same," Rachel sighed, heavily. "We're truly trapped in here."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

Will cleared his throat. "We managed to get the door to the courtyard open. I don't know about you guys but freezing on the bus is a lot better than sticking around this place being stalked by a ghost."

"Definitely," all but Finn, Quinn, Mercedes and Kurt chorused together. Seeing that they were outvoted, they quickly threw their lot in with others.

"Great, so pack up your stuff. We're getting the hell out of here."

For the first time that weekend, Sam felt the faint stirrings of hope. True, being stuck on a freezing bus with the annoying members of New Directions was not his ideal solution. But it was still better than being stuck in this hell hole with a ghost that shouldn't even exist trying to kill his best friend for god only knew what reason. He started to think that maybe they were going to make it after all. He turned to tell Puck to say something along those lines to Puck when the words died on his lips.

Puck, Brittany and Rachel were engaged in their own conversation as they slowly trailed behind Santana and Blaine. And then Puck was gone. If Sam hadn't been looking directly at his friend, he never would've believed that the floor literally opened up underneath his feet and swallowed him whole. He was gone. They were minutes away from freedom and now Puck was gone. Sam blinked.

"Did the floor just eat Puck?" Blaine asked with his eyes glued to the empty spot Puck should've been standing in.

"Uh, that would be a yes," Mike mumbled in response.

All eyes flickered towards Sam who was staring at the empty spot. He knew they were looking at him. He knew he should probably say something but he found the words just wouldn't come out. Puck was gone and there was no following him this time. Sam slumped down against the wall. Santana kneeled down beside him and he knew he should probably say something especially when he saw the worry in her eyes. But he couldn't. Because this wasn't right. They were supposed to be freezing on a bus. Puck was not supposed to eaten by a floor minutes away from safety. He heard Santana let out a deep breath.

"So yeah, I'd say we're pretty screwed right about now."

* * *

><p>*And we're done! No, I'm kidding. There is at least one more chapter left to go. I hope this chapter was enjoyable. Again, really sorry for the delay. I was fighting writer's block hard with this one. But I think I'm back in the game. Ciao for now, my shiny readers.<p> 


	6. Mama, Help Me, I've Been Cursed

**Summary:** When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship,

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms.P's happy land!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note: **So we're drawing to an end. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. Not much say this time around. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Mama, Help Me, I've Been Cursed<strong>

Puck was dead. He was totally and completely, no coming back from this dead.

Or rather he would be once Sam found him… if Sam found him. He wasn't terribly optimistic because he was pretty sure that the floor ate him. One minute he was talking with Brittany and Rachel about whether it was wiser to eat Finn or Kurt first once they got on the bus and then the next he felt the ground literally move under his feet and he was gone. Ghost Bitch just officially raised the bar on being the biggest douche bag around. Finn would have to aim high to win his title back. Puck couldn't wait to tell him. Actually he just couldn't wait to see him because that meant that he was safe.

"You know you're scared when seeing Hudson is considered a good thing," he murmured to himself, mostly because he needed to hear something than his own terrified breathing. Wherever he was, it was dark, quiet and cold. Seriously, he was so over this shit already. He wished for some sort of light so he knew what he was dealing with here. Almost like they were waiting for that cue, the lights flickered on and Puck wished they were gone.

His eyes were locked on the slumped figure in the far corner of the small room he was in. Out the corner of his eyes he could see several shelves of food. The still somewhat rational part of him realized that he was standing in a freezer. The part of him that was the most in control at the moment realized that none of that mattered because of the body in the corner. It wasn't just any plain practically dead body. It was his. He was looking at his own body.

"What in the fuck is this? I'm dead?"

"Not yet."

He whirled around to see a young woman standing slightly behind him. He took a step back when he recognized the ghost that seemed to make it her personal mission in the afterlife to make his life a living hell. And now she seemed to have succeeded in killing him.

"What do you mean not yet?"

She ignored his anger and stared quizzically at the pathetic figure in the corner. "You're stubborn. You're holding on for something."

"Yeah, life," Puck snapped. "What the hell is your problem anyway? What did I do to you? Did I somehow piss you off? Or do you randomly just pick people to fuck with?"

"You're like me."

Puck snorted. "Lady, in case death has made you stupid, you'll realize that I'm nothing like you. For starters, before you freaking pulled that shit with the floor, I had a pulse!"

"You're alone."

"Uh, again, I have friends. You remember them, right? You know the blond one with the Bieber hair that you pushed down the stairs."

"I remember him," her eyes darkened. "He says that he cares for you but it's only a matter of time before he turns on you. He'll leave you."

"No, he won't," Puck retorted. "Sam is one of the most moralistic people I've ever had the horror of knowing. He's decided that I'm his responsibility or some shit. He's never going to turn his back on me."

"And if you died today? What would he do? You think he'll mourn you? He'll probably be glad to be free of his burden and move on. They all will."

Puck's jaw tightened and he felt his heart clench. "I know they will."

"So then how…."

"They will because that's what I want for them," he interrupted her. "I don't want them to stop living. They're the people I care most about in this world. I want them to keep living even when I'm gone. I want Brittany and Artie to get back together. I want Tina and Mike to have a bunch of dancing Asian babies. And for Sam to suck it up and realize that he's still drooling over Santana. I want Rachel… I want Rachel to find someone that's actually worth her time. I'd be happy with just about anyone really except Finnocence or St. Doucheface. I might have to haunt her if she does something that stupid again. I know they're going to move on after I'm gone and I'm fine with that. It's what I want."

His not friendly ghost appeared stunned. Her eyes were watery as she finally looked at him. "If all of that is true, then why do you want to live so badly? You hate yourself. You think you're worthless and better off dead. So why do you want to live so badly?"

"Damn, tactless much?" he ran a hand through his hair. He glared at her for a moment before sighing. You really can't fight the truth. "You're right. I, personally, feel that they're wasting their time on me. But they... seem to think otherwise. They think I'm worth something. So while I might think I'm worthless, they don't. I want them to be happy and for some stupid ass reason, me having a pulse and being around makes them happy. So I want to live because of them. I'm going to live for them."

The woman shook her head. "I don't understand this."

For the first time since this whole ordeal started, Puck felt sympathy for his ghostly assassin. It helped that at least for the moment, she looked normal. "Why are you trying to kill me anyway?"

"So I won't be alone," she whispered. "I saw you that you were like me. And I just don't want to be alone anymore."

Well damn, it was a little hard to be mad at someone when they said something like that. He sighed again. He was so experiencing Stockholm syndrome. He was sympathizing with his kidnapper… and possible murderer. He cocked his head to the side and looked over at his body. There were slight tremors every now and then. He was still alive. He only needed to worry when the shivering stopped. A part of him wondered why he wasn't more concerned about this. But once again, it wasn't his rational side.

"What happened to you? Why are you alone? There aren't any other hot ghosts running around in the world?"

She laughed softly and shook her head. "I was in love once… with a guy that was a lot like you. He was smart but people didn't always see it right away. He didn't see his own potential. He was amazing."

"Sounds like a good guy, so what happened?"

"One morning I found a letter from him on my bed. He said that he was breaking up with me because he heard that I was cheating on him. I never even noticed another man when I was him. I would never do that to him. I loved him. That same day… I found out I was pregnant."

Puck winced. "Did you tell him?"

"I tried," she smiled sadly. "I went to talk to him but he refused to see me. Conveniently it was the same day I found out that I was fired. Guess he really didn't want to see me. So I packed up everything and I left. I was going to give up but I couldn't. Maybe if I wasn't pregnant, I would've just given up on everything. But my baby deserved to know their father."

"Wait, you packed everything up… you worked here?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I came back two months after I was fired to try and speak with him. But only Mrs. Meadows was here. She never really liked me but I figured I'd try and talk to her. Get her to see my side of the story. I even told her about the baby," she laughed bitterly. "While we were talking, I just remember my head getting heavier and heavier. I was so tired. So I just put my head down for a moment… and then I was like this."

Puck arched an eyebrow. "So you woke up dead?"

"You can't wake up dead. It's impossible to wake up dead," she replied. Puck smirked.

"You did."

Her eyes widened before a smile spread across her face. She really looked different when she smiled like that. She looked alive. He preferred her with the smile.

"You really do remind me of him."

"Of who?"

"Ethan."

That's the moment where all the various pieces of the puzzle finally came together for him. "You're Claude."

She blinked. "Uh, yes. That was Ethan's nickname for me. My name is Claudia Rocha."

"So Ethan was the guy you were telling me about?"

"Yes, why?"

Puck exhaled slowly. "Because this is the weekend where all the wrong people were actually right about things. And I think that Mrs. Meadows has a lot of explaining to do." He looked at Claudia. "I need you to do me a favor."

Claudia blinked again.

* * *

><p>Puck was gone. Puck was gone. Puck was gone. Puck promised that he would never go where Sam couldn't follow but the last time that Sam checked he couldn't exactly melt through the floors. And that last time was approximately two minutes ago. Maybe it was time for another check. However, before he could try poking the floor once again, he felt a soft hand wrap around his. He didn't look to see that it was Santana. It was her the last time and he predicted it would be her the next time as well.<p>

Sam wasn't quite sure how long he was sitting on the floor, staring at the spot where Puck was once but he did know he had no intention of moving. Because moving meant that he was giving up. And he couldn't give up on Puck. That just didn't make sense. And besides, if he gave up then Puck could possibly die (if he wasn't already dead) and Sam couldn't let that happen. Puck already said he didn't want to die in this place. And he wasn't ready for Puck to be dead.

"_Sammy?" _

Sam's head shot up at the faint whisper of his name. It sounded like Puck but that was impossible because the floor just ate him. But damned if it didn't sound like him. His eyes darted around the hallway. He saw Santana sitting next to him, still holding his hand tightly. Blaine, Brittany and Rachel were crouched on the other side of the hallway, alternately watching Sam and the Puck-space warily. He was vaguely aware of the other gleeks and Will in the hall but there was still no sign of Puck. And great, the grief stricken hallucinations were starting.

"_Sam!" _

This time there was no mistaking the voice. He knew he heard it this time. "Puck?" he asked, quietly. He felt Santana tense. "Is that you?"

"_No, it's your other dead sexy best friend." _

Sam's lips twisted. "Blaine is kind of hot," he muttered aloud. Blaine raised an eyebrow but shrugged.

"_I'm going to ignore that, Sammy. Look, I know you're all shocked and shit that the floor ate me but I really need you to get your ass in gear. You're supposed to be the one that finds me. Well, I currently need finding. Get on that." _

"I don't know where to look!"

"_Start with the Meadows. Satan was right. Dude, the ghost's name is Claudia Rocha. She's Claude." _

"Claude?" he murmured. There was no reply. "Puck?"

It was quiet once again. Whatever connection that Puck was using to talk to him was severed. Sam frowned. He hoped that didn't mean that Puck was out of time. And on that note, why was he still sitting here wasting time thinking about this when he should be doing his job.

"The ghost is Claude," he announced to the rest of the people in the hallway.

"Ethan's Claude?" Santana asked, rising to her feet. "Ethan's Claude is the ghost?"

"How do you know that?"

"Puck told me."

"But Puck," Kurt paused at the murderous glares he was receiving. "Shutting up now."

"Did he tell you where he is?" Blaine asked, not questioning the veracity of Sam's information. Sam didn't know if it was because Puck somehow let them in on the conversation of it was because he trusted Sam. Whatever it was, Sam appreciated that he didn't have to explain the unexplainable.

"No, but he told me to start with the Meadows and that the ghost was Claude. Didn't Ethan say they were going to be in the kitchen working on breakfast?"

"Yeah," Artie agreed. "But what exactly are we supposed to say? 'Claude ate our friend'?"

"Mrs. Meadows wasn't exactly forthcoming with information the last time we spoke with her," Santana said, crossing her arms over her chest thoughtfully. "That old biddy knows something. I bet you this shit is her fault."

"Santana is right."

"See, even Sam thinks I'm right."

"No, that's what Puck said. He said that you were right. I think he meant that you were right about Mrs. Meadows. Because if Claude is the ghost that means she didn't leave Ethan. She died. And something tells that Mrs. Meadows had a role in that."

"I knew that bitch was evil!" Santana cheered, a little too happy about that. Rachel shook her head fondly but was still frowning.

"That doesn't help us find Noah. He's still missing."

Sam was about to agree when he noticed that Brittany was oddly quiet. He found her still staring at the Puck-space but there was a hint of understanding in her gaze. Almost as if she sensed his scrutiny, Brittany looked up and smiled.

"Puck said to start with the Meadows and they're in the kitchen, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said, warily.

"The kitchen is directly underneath us," Brittany beamed.

Blaine nodded his head, picking up in Brittany's train of thought. "What if the floor didn't eat him? What if it just opened underneath him?"

Sam wanted to hit himself for not thinking of that first. But then he realized that this was way out of his scope of experience. So he was just going to be grateful that Brittany lived outside the box and therefore was a little quicker on the supernatural uptake than him.

"Then I guess we're going to the kitchen."

"I'm so busting Granny in the face!" Santana fumed as she stalked down the hall. Sam followed her but didn't bother to argue. Because she was right. Mrs. Meadows was somehow involved in this ghost situation and really there was only one way for that to even be possible. This meant that Mrs. Meadows was definitely an evil bitch.

Santana and Blaine were both right in the same weekend. This was definitely going down as the absolute worst weekend in his seventeen years of existence.

* * *

><p>Fortunately, they were able to convince the majority of the other gleeks to stay behind. Unfortunately, they hadn't managed to convince the ones they really wanted to stay behind. And that's how Sam found himself wedged between Finn and Will in the not at all built for this number of people kitchen. Still, he found that he wasn't really all that put out. As soon as they walked into the kitchen, he was hit by an overwhelming feeling of cold. He felt so cold that his arms and legs felt numb. But one look around the room showed that he was the only one. What the hell was that about?<p>

"Oh, it's you kids again," Martha commented airily. "Come to ask some more ridiculous questions?"

"No," Santana's lips curved into a smirk. "We only had one question really."

Martha barely hid her eye roll while Ethan just looked amused. "Go ahead," he grinned. "What do you want to know about this time?"

"What really happened to Claudia Rocha?"

The effect was immediate. The color drained from both mother and son. But Sam was pleased to note that Ethan's face was surprised and sad while Martha looked like the past was coming back to bite her in the ass in a very big way. Perfect.

"Where… did you hear that name?"

"See the funny thing is," Rachel picked up where Santana left off. "Since we arrived at your establishment, our currently missing friend has been experiencing very odd things. It has come to our attention that it was in fact the result of a ghost. The ghost of one Claudia Rocha. I believe you know her as Claude?"

Ethan's brow furrowed. "Claude's dead? She died here?" his eyes drifted towards his mother, who was standing tensely beside him. "Mom, what's going on?"

Martha's eyes darkened and glittered in the dim lighting of the kitchen. "You kids have no idea what you're digging into."

"Oh, we have an idea," Blaine retorted. "Claudia died here under less than normal circumstances and now she's haunting the place. And for some reason, she's decided that our friend is supposed to be joining her in the afterlife."

"Which is not acceptable," Rachel added. "So why don't you tell us what really happened to Claudia so we can figure out how to get our friend back?"

"Ethan," Martha turned towards her son. "You're not actually believing this drivel are you?" he took a step away from her. "Ethan!"

"No, mom. You tell them what they want to know. Because now I'm a little curious. It makes sense. How would they know about Claude's whole name? I only used her nickname. I never used her last name. So how did they know?"

"Maybe they found something that belonged to her."

"Or maybe her ghost has been haunting our asses since Friday," Santana snapped.

Martha glared at Santana for several long minutes. And while the former Cheerio didn't break the gaze for a minute, Sam felt uncomfortable for her. He moved to her side, silently offering his own support as well as subtle reminder to Martha that he was fully capable of hitting an old woman for his family.

"You're just like her," Martha spat. "Head strong, obstinate, crude and always thinking you have all the answers to everything."

"Many would say those are my more likeable character traits," Santana sniffed. Martha broke the intense staring match and looked once again to her son.

"I never wanted you to find out this way. I tried to hide it from you for the past eight years. But I supposed I have no choice now."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what, mom?"

"Claudia came here to speak with you shortly after you went on that business conference in Milwaukee. She was insistent that she speak with you. I told her that you wanted nothing to do with her since she cheated on you but she said that she would wait. When you didn't come home in a few hours, she left. Or at least I thought she did. I was doing a check on the rooms and came across her old room. And there she was. She hung herself in the bathroom of her old room."

Sam's brow furrowed. Something about that didn't seem right. There was something more to this story and Sam was getting tired of asking for the details. He was also getting tired of the persistent cold that was clinging to him. Once again, he looked around the room to find that he was the only one. This was such utter bullshit.

"So Claude killed herself and this is something you didn't think I needed to know?" Ethan snapped at his mother. Martha appeared as surprised by the outburst as the rest of them. "I deserved to know that Claude was dead. Instead I was sitting here hoping that one day she would come back for me."

Martha's face turned several shades of red. "You were sitting here waiting for her? That street trash? She was a whore, Ethan. I told you that from the beginning. She was only using you for your money and connections. She did the world a favor when she hung herself that night."

The cold intensified and Sam was content that he was no longer the only one. He let out a tiny huff of air and noted that it was visible. Oh, this was not good at all. He looked at Martha and was only somewhat shocked by the sudden appearance of Claude beside her. It was the same pale figure with the dark eyes and Sam was glad that glare was focused on someone other than him at the moment.

"See, I know I was all in favor of the ghost theory," Blaine started, leaning closer to Sam. "But is it wrong that I'm dangerously close to losing all control over my bladder at the moment?"

"No," Sam assured him. "Pretty sure that's a normal reaction."

"Oh, good."

"Claude?" Ethan's face was almost as pale as the ghost. "Is that really you?"

Her eyes softened as she took in her former lover. "Ethan," she whispered.

"Oh, god, you're dead," Ethan said, mournfully. "I thought you left me."

"I could never leave you."

"Why did you…"

"I didn't." Sam winced as the soft look faded away and a familiar blankness covered her face. She turned a venomous glare on Martha who was attempting to fade into the background. "Why don't you tell Ethan what we really talked about that evening? Why don't you tell him what really happened?"

"I, I don't know what you're talking about!" Martha gasped out, backing away from the angry ghost. Sam was also pretty sure that was a normal reaction. However, she was running out of space to move away and he knew he had no intention of letting her out.

"What's going on, Claude? Have you really been here all this time?"

"Yes. I've been here since the night I went to talk to your mother to get to convince you to see me. I even told her about…." Claude trailed off and her features softened for the second time. She really was pretty… when she was trying to kill him. Or Puck.

"About what, Claude? What did you tell my mom about?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. "About the baby, Eth. I told her about the baby. Our baby."

"You're pregnant? You were pregnant. We were going to have a baby."

"Now, do you understand? Now do you believe me when I say I would never kill myself?"

"Yes," Ethan agreed. His eyes glistened as he stared at the ghost of the woman he loved. Sam's heart broke for him. To find out that you not only lost the woman you loved but your child in one day would be a cruel blow for any person. But to find out that your mother most likely had a hand in it was just devastating. Sam watched as Ethan struggled to grab onto the various emotions he was no doubt feeling. "Mother, what the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Don't lie to me," Ethan hissed. Martha tried to maintain her innocence for a moment longer before dropping the act altogether.

"I did what I had to do. I'm your mother. You were so in love with this little tart that you were actually thinking of leaving me. I know she put those ideas in your head. I thought by telling you that she was cheating on you, that would be the end of it. But the little bitch wouldn't give up. And then she said she was having your baby. And I knew that I had to get rid of her. I had to for your sake, Ethan."

Ethan looked at his mother as if he was finally seeing her for the first time. Martha's eyes widened as she tried to take a step towards him and he took two steps back, shaking his head.

"You killed Claude," he said, shakily. "You killed Claude and my child! And for what? So I could stay here with you for the rest of your life? What about me, mother? What about the life I want to live? Do you really think that Dad wanted this for me?"

"You're just like your father," Martha chuckled humorlessly. "You're so like him. He had all these illusions of grandeur. He wanted to go out and discover the world. He was going to leave me with you. And I couldn't have that."

"Damn and I thought Noah had serious abandonment issues," Rachel murmured absently. "He's got nothing on her." Sam nodded slowly.

"About that," Blaine started. "Uh, Claude, I understand that this is probably really poor timing but you wouldn't mind giving us our friend back… would you?"

Sam tensed, waiting for her to react negatively when she smiled softly instead. "Of course," she turned her head towards the unnoticed metal door in the back of the room. "He's in there."

Sam didn't know which of them moved first but he soon found that there were five hands pulling on the handle of the door. It swung open easily with the extra grips and immediately they were blasted with a burst of cold air. The freezer? Puck was in a freezer?

"Puck?" Santana called cautiously. Sam and Blaine entered the freezer and thankfully spotted their friend crouched in the corner. His head was hanging downwards. Sam didn't know he was holding his breath until he saw Puck lift his head slowly.

"Bout damn time," he shivered. "What… what were you…wait…waiting for?"

Sam kneeled down next to Puck to help him stand. "Sorry, we just got caught up in the ghostly soap opera."

"Better than… prime time?"

"You're an idiot," Sam retorted. Together, they made their way out of the freezer. Will took his jacket off and draped it around the shoulders of a very grateful Puck.

Claude glided across the room to stand in front of Puck. Sam started to block her, knowing how very ineffective that was going to be, but Puck shook his head. "It's... ok. She's not going to h-h-urt me. Ri-ii-ght?"

"Right," Claude confirmed with a soft smile. "Thank you, Puck. I'm so sorry that I tried… you know."

"To kill me?"

"Yes, that," she admitted sheepishly. "Thank you, for helping me get closure. And you were right. I understand now that sometimes it can last forever. You're not alone, Noah Puckerman. And I don't think you ever will be."

Puck threw a quick look in Sam's direction before turning back to Claude and smiling. "Told you so."

Claude rolled her eyes though her lips were curved into a smile. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Wait," Ethan pleaded. "Just wait… Claude, I'm so sorry. I never knew… all this time."

"I know."

"No, you don't know. All this time, all these years, I've been waiting for you to come back. I've been holding on the hope that you'd come back for me. I'm not about to let you leave me again."

"Ethan, I do understand. A wise person once told me that he wanted the people he loved to live after he was gone. I want that for you too. I want you to get out of this place."

He shook his head. "There is nothing in this world for me anymore. It's been you since the moment we met, Claude. And it's going to be you forever. There is nothing for me without you."

Claude cocked her head to the side, dark eyes searching his. "You really mean it, Eth?"

"I love you, Claude," he moved in front of her. "These past six years have been torture. I'm not living without you. So I'd rather be not living _with_ you."

Claude laughed. "You're still an idiot."

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot," he replied, softly.

"Yes, you are," she stretched up to brush her lips against his. For some reason, Santana chose this moment to clap a hand over Brittany's eyes. Sam was about to comment on that when he noticed that Ethan was turning blue and then gray. Oh, well that explained that.

When Claude broke the kiss at last, she stepped away from Ethan who dropped to the floor lifelessly. At least his physical body did. Standing still in a loose embrace with Claude was a pale, slightly shimmering figure. He glanced down at his body and shrugged. Warmth radiated from the reunited couple as they stood beaming at one another. Ethan pulled her into a soft kiss as they faded from sight. Sam sincerely hoped that they moved on and weren't going to be stuck haunting this place. Then again, he had no intentions of ever returning so…

"Ethan! No!" Martha yelled, throwing herself down on her son's body. Sam wanted to feel bad for her but he really couldn't. This whole situation as was her fault. His best friend almost died three times because she had some serious issues with letting people go.

"Let's get out of here," Will said, shaking his head at the scene in front of them. The seven teens nodded and followed their teacher's lead. As they walked, Sam could feel some of the heat returning to the chilled flesh under his hands.

"How do you feel, dude?" he asked, lowly.

"Like a popsicle," Puck replied, teeth still chattering. "Sammy, promise me something?"

"Anything, dude."

"When it snows in New York, can we go somewhere warm?"

Sam smirked. "Sure, Puck."

"So it was a happy ending!" Brittany cheered even as Santana continued to guide her away from the still sobbing Martha in the kitchen.

"Britt, I love your undying optimism but how was this a happy ending?" Blaine mused. "Puck almost died… again. Our options at this point pretty much are sitting here with the dead body and the evil murdering old lady in the kitchen or freezing our asses off on a bus. And I did mention that there is a dead body, a murderer and that Puck almost died again, right? And the not inconsequential issue of a ghost."

"Duh, but now she's not alone anymore!" Brittany replied brightly. "And Puck didn't die because he's still here with us. And he's not alone either."

Puck snorted. "Can't really fight that logic."

Sam agreed with a small smile of his own. "You know you'll never be alone, right?"

"Dude, I get that I've had more near death experiences in the span of two days than should be humanly allowed in a person's natural lifetime, but I'm not about to do another chick moment. We've had like ten of those already."

Yeah, Puck was going to be just fine.

* * *

><p>*So I hope that you all enjoyed. There is one last little wrap up chapter where the burning question of who wins the pool shall be answered. Because I know with everything going on in this story, that's the question on everyone's minds, lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Ciao for now.<p> 


	7. Now Here We Go For the Hundredth Time

**Summary:** When the gleeks end up stranded at a rundown motel for the weekend, Sam notices Puck is acting strange. He's quiet and withdrawn. But is he really just tired or is there something more going on? And can they help him before it's too late?

**Pairings:** Chang-squared, Fuinn, Kurtofsky, with some Puckleberry/Samtana/Bartie leanings. Puck/Rachel/Santana/Sam/Blaine/Brittany friendship, emphasis on Puck/Sam bromance.

**Warnings:** This contains spoilers up to the second season finale. It pretty much goes AU after that for obvious reasons. Just assume everything up to the New York episode is canon. After that, it goes off into Ms.P's happy land!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this show or anything related to this show. If I did there would be many more songs featuring Santana, Puck and Artie. There would also be a lot more Mike and his wondrous abs. There would also be a lot less emphasis on Finn and Kurt and Chord Overstreet wouldn't be gone. Clearly I don't own the show. So my vision will just have to live on through my stories. *sniff*

**Author's Note: **So this is the part where I apologize for the delay. It wasn't so much writer's block this time around as it was a massive case of the Real World. So again, very sorry. I hope that the epilogue is to your liking.

* * *

><p><strong>Now Here We Go For the Hundredth Time<strong>

When Puck initiated the whole 'Stop Sam From Being Homeless Plan', Sam expected that there would be a lot of changes in his life. He was used to being on his own. He knew that it was going to be a bit of a culture shock going from being a lone wolf to suddenly having five best friends. Especially when your five best friends were Brittany, Puck, Santana, Rachel and Blaine. He got used to expecting the unexpected. But having your best friend be ghost bait, well that was a new one. Sam wasn't looking forward to the lengths they would have to go to top this one. But he was fairly certain that they would… and soon. Still….

"I can't believe you made a ghost fall in love with you," Sam muttered to the blanket covered figure leaning against his shoulder. Sam's arm was draped across Puck's shoulders.

"Screw you, Sammy!"

"Any closer to the crotch area and you will be," Santana quipped, leaning over the back of their seat hovering over them, despite Will's frequent requests that she stop doing that. "You two are so adorable. When's the wedding?"

Puck's head emerged from the virtual cocoon of blankets that Rachel insisted on draping on him after they rescued him from the freezer. Sam only slightly loosened his hold on his friend to allow Puck to glare at the smirking Latina above them.

"Don't you have anyone better to torture right now? Isn't your quota low on damaging Kurt's self-esteem for the month?"

Santana paused to think about it for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, but I think that this totally trumps making fun of Kurt. Besides that's getting kind of old and pointless. I mean he pretty much makes fun of himself by breathing. Takes all the art out of it."

"You're a class act, San," Rachel commented, tugging on Santana's sweater, forcing their mutual pain in the ass to drop down to her seat. Sam knew it was only a matter of time before she made another appearance.

"You know I've been warm for the past twenty minutes, right?" Puck asked, shifting a little in his seat. "You don't have to keep snuggling with me."

"I'm not snuggling…." He trailed off as he realized that was exactly what they were doing. Sam slowly released Puck, letting him sit up on his own. "You know you totally liked it."

"Oh, I wasn't complaining, Stud Muffin," Puck smirked. "I'm just saying. I'm not going anywhere. We're safe now. We're like at least twenty miles away from there now."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "We'll revisit this conversation when we're thirty miles away. I'm not really sure how far crazy can travel. After all they let Santana through with no problems."

"I heard that!"

"You're sitting in back of me," Sam countered, rolling his eyes. "How could you not hear that?"

He smiled at the rapid, Spanish muttering that was punctuated by the sharp kick to the back of his seat. He finally felt himself relaxing as normalcy started to return. Santana was supposed to be the scariest thing he knew about. Ghosts and killer motel owners weren't even on his list. And he knew it was going to take a while to recover. But this was a good start.

"Satan, stop kicking the seat!" Puck whined, and there was a slight wheezing sound as he spoke. Of course the idiot would be getting sick.

Santana's head appeared over their seat again. "Puckerman, you brought your asthma crap, right?"

Puck's eyes widened in an attempt to look innocent. Sam was pretty sure that Puck didn't look innocent as a baby and he definitely wasn't pulling that look off now. "Uh, define bring."

Santana grunted as Rachel stood up next to her. At the front of the bus, Will protested but realized that the combination of Berry and Lopez was not one to go up against. Sam smirked before joining in the glaring.

"Noah, you need to start taking better care of yourself!" Rachel chastised.

"Why would I need to do that when I have you to take care of me?"

Rachel smiled softly. "And what happens when I'm not around?"

"You plan on leaving me anytime soon?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and indicated for Sam to move. He did so without complaint. He switched with seats with her, watching as she handed Puck his asthma pump. "See, babe. Between you and Superman back there, I don't need to watch out for myself."

"That's a totally sweet way of admitting you're lazy," Santana quipped, dropping down to her seat. Sam sat down too, not willing to risk inciting Will's wrath. "So."

"So," Sam grinned, looking at his new seatmate. "How was your weekend?"

"Oh, it was awesome," Santana replied with a grin. "Filled with adventure and fun. We should do this every weekend."

"You know there is just one last thing I need to know before I can put this whole weekend behind us."

"And that is?" Blaine chose this moment to chime in the conversation from his seat across the aisle from Santana and Sam.

"Who picked this weekend on the pool?"

Santana sat up straight. "You mean it wasn't you?"

"No," Sam sighed. "I totally had it down for at least Sectionals. You know there's always some big dramatic crap around that. I figured they'd get together and Finn would get all jealous and make that stupid angsty face that just makes him look really special. Meanwhile Quinn would be flouncing around pouting and whining about how no one loves her despite the fact that she pretty much screwed over two awesome dudes for Finn."

"And I figured they wouldn't get it together until at least after graduation," Santana said. "I just thought they would ignore the fact that they totally eye sex their way through every conversation until one day it all exploded into some angsty hot Jew love fest."

"I had the week after we moved to New York," Blaine admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "Pretty much everything San said but with more booze and less angst and clothing."

"I'm mad you guys are acting like we can't hear you!" Puck growled.

"So are you denying that you and Rachel are together?" Sam countered.

There was a moment of silence and Sam was pleased to note that almost all of the gleeks were patiently waiting for the answer to that one. There was a moment of silence before Puck sighed heavily.

"Ok, so we are. Big deal."

"Finally!" Tina cheered. "But wait who did have this week in the pool?"

"I would like to say that I'm surprised that you all have nothing better to do with your free time than to collectively wager on when Noah and I would get together but I actually associate with you, so I know you don't."

"Per the usual, midget. Way too many words to say what you could've said in like five."

"You're a bitch, San."

"See!" Santana patted Rachel on the head condescendingly. "Blaine, you've got the book. Who's the winner?"

"More importantly how much was it up to?" Puck asked. Rachel scoffed and gave him an annoyed look. "What? Babe, I think it's pretty sad that they have a pool going but you have to wonder just how much we're worth."

Rachel was obviously contemplating the matter and turned to Blaine. "Well?"

Blaine smirked, flipping through his ever present notebook. "Ok, so the winner of the $250 and free waffles at Artie's house for a week jackpot is…." Blaine's eyes widened as he looked at the name printed in the book. He cast a quick look at the seemingly oblivious Brittany before staring again at the name. "There are two winners."

"Who?" Sam snapped, impatiently.

"And why were free waffles included?" Puck added. "Wheels, I'm included in this, right?"

"Puck, you're at my house every Sunday to get waffles. Mom doesn't even ask if we want waffles on Sundays anymore. She just assumes you're coming over and makes them," Artie replied, exasperated. "Anyway who were the winners?"

"Britt and… Lauren?" Blaine read in disbelief. "Britt, you and Lauren won the pool?"

"Well, duh," Brittany rolled her eyes. "It was all part of the plan."

"There was a plan?" Sam muttered.

"Of course there was a plan," Santana grumbled. "You mean to tell me that Lauren broke up with Puck so that he could get together with Rachel."

Brittany shrugged. "Yeah. We didn't know he would take it so bad though. That's why I've been like extra nice this weekend because Lauren felt bad that you felt bad."

Santana pouted. "Does this mean I don't get to harpoon her on Monday?"

"It sounds like," Sam said, sympathetically. He poked Puck's seat. "You ok with this?"

"My ex-girlfriend broke up with me on purpose so that I could get together with Rachel," Puck summarized. "Given that I've pretty much been a ghost's bitch this entire weekend, I am actually ok with this. Although now I think I'm going to have to give Lauren the title of favorite ex-girlfriend. Sorry, San. Sorry, Rach."

"I think I'll live," Santana snorted.

"And I much prefer the title of girlfriend," Rachel cooed, placing a kiss on Puck's cheek.

"Oh, they're going to be cavity inducing aren't they?" Blaine gagged, playfully. Sam grinned and slung an arm around Santana's shoulders.

As far as he was concerned, this was a win all around. Everyone was safe. Yes, Puck and Rachel were going to be completely sickening at least for the first few weeks of this relationship but Sam was pretty sure that their combined insanity would balance out the gag worthy adorableness soon enough. And to top it all off, the tension between the gleeks was finally easing. While he didn't think he would be calling Quinn, Mercedes, Finn or Kurt to hang out any time soon, he didn't feel the same level of animosity before. And it appeared to be a mutual thing. So maybe, just maybe, this weekend didn't suck after all. Because his family was safe and he wouldn't trade that for anything.

"So now that the Puckleberry Pool is done," Blaine's voice shook him out of his thoughts. "Who wants in on the Samtana Pool?"

"Oh, I'm definitely down for that one!" Rachel chimed in.

"Me and Mr. Creepers want in too!"

"Britt, please tell me you didn't actually find Chtulhu's bastard love child and bring him on the bus?" Puck's head appeared in the aisle as he looked at Brittany when there was no answer after a long moment of silence. "Well?"

"Rachel always tells me that it's better not to say anything if the only other option is lying!" Brittany pouted.

"Brittany, he would've been fine," Blaine said, patting her on the shoulder. "So just let him out the bus window so he can go terrorize the woodland creatures like the giant nightmare inducing beast he is. I mean make some friends."

The blonde sighed heavily but reached into her bag and pulled out a small box. She lifted the lid on the box and frowned. "Hey, where did Mr. Creepers go?"

"Not again!" Santana squeaked, throwing herself onto Sam's lap. His arms wound reflexively around her waist even as he pulled his legs up onto the seat.

They were so busy searching for the spider beast that they failed to notice the satisfied smirks on the faces of Puck, Blaine and Brittany. Sometimes it was almost too easy. The Samtana Pool was officially open.

"Wait, Britt... you were kidding about Mr. Creepers, right?"

"Why would I kid about that?"

"Oh, crap!"

**The End**

* * *

><p>*And it's finally over! Yay. I'd like to take the time out to thank all you lovely people who reviewed. Your reviews kept me going and made me smile a lot during these past few months. Thank you so much for all your support! I may not have gotten back to each of you individually but just know that I have treasured every single review I've received. Your kind words have really helped to feed my ego. So thank you again. I'd also like to thank Linkin Park for pretty much sticking yourselves in my brain and not leaving the entire time I was writing this story. Special thanks to Bleed It Out for providing me chapter titles. Yay! Ok, that's enough from me. I'm off to try and write more stories before the real world tries to kick in again. Ciao for now!<p> 


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